Miles To Go
by Cascadia
Summary: Across a dangerous tropical rain forest, Obi-Wan struggles against his Force sensitive captor. complete
1. Illusions

TITLE: MILES TO GO

AUTHOR: Cascadia

TIME: 6 years pre-TPM, Obi-Wan is 19

RATING: PG

CATEGORY: Drama/Angst, Non-Slash

SUMMARY: Across a dangerous tropical rain forest, Obi-Wan struggles against his Force-sensitive captor.

ARCHIVE: Please ask first. Sites who have previously archived any of my stories may archive any of them that they want to without asking.

DISCLAIMER: All recognizable characters are the property of Lucasfilm Limited. All the rest belong to me. I receive absolutely no profit from this.

* * *

MILES TO GO

CHAPTER 1 - ILLUSIONS

"I have a personal matter I need to discuss with Yoda," Qui-Gon addressed his padawan, who was sitting at the kitchen table finishing up his dinner. "I might be gone a long time, so don't wait up for me," said Qui-Gon with a smile. Casually, he crossed his arms, waiting for the expected response.

Obi-Wan's head flew up to search his master's face. Then a small frown creased the padawan's brow. "Master?" Obi-Wan inquired with one word, but Qui-Gon knew all the weight, all the meaning, carried behind it.

WHY wasn't Qui-Gon confiding in _him_? If he had some sort of problem - personal or not - his master should tell his padawan. Afterall, they had been together for over six years now as a master/padawan team and, further, they felt as close as father and son.

Filing away the look of total rejection displayed so openly - and amusingly, although Qui-Gon dared not show any thoughts along that line - on his padawan's face, the tall Jedi master paused at the kitchen door. "It's not important that you know, Obi-Wan," he added before noting the appearance of a look of irritation surfacing to displace the other one.

He waited to see if Obi-Wan would reply to that statement, but the padawan's eyes quickly darted away, concealing the storm brewing within. This was not something that he wished to tell Obi-Wan, at least not yet. So, without further comment, he exited the apartment.

Hurt. He was hurt that Master Qui-Gon would deliberately keep something hidden from him. Even if he needed to seek Yoda's advice, did he have to shove his padawan away like that? Was confiding in his padawan so difficult? Was it such a pain, such a problem to tell him something that obviously was important? Was_he_ a pain to his master, a problem?

Realizing the irrational jealousy rushing through him, Obi-Wan tamped it down and focused his energies on procuring an object for his master's upcoming birthday. This would provide an excellent opportunity to find what he was looking for. If Qui-Gon was indeed gone the rest of the night, then the padawan should have sufficient time to travel to the merchant shops near the shockball sports complex in the Northern sector and find just that special gift for his master.

Strolling in the 'fresher, Obi-Wan took in his appearance in the mirror. He looked like he thought he did, only more tired. He and Qui-Gon had had a long day - learning new katas, running errands for various senators who wouldn't take responsibility for their own mistakes, reading more holo-books about the politics and religion of far too many star systems, and the list went on, much too much for Obi-Wan's tired mind to recall.

He slid an open palm down the side of his face, determining that he needed not to shave. Then he took one last look, casually straightening his braid and smiling at himself, before leaving his apartment and the Temple.

The evening air was crisp and sweet - not at all humid, as it had felt earlier when they were tirelessly running back and forth from the Temple to the Galactic Senate building. The fall of night brought with it a pause of foreboding that the padawan pocketed, keeping it in mind, but not giving in to worry.

As he reached the edge of the Temple's property and crossed causeways to reach the transit stop, he surreptitiously glanced around him, a vague feeling of danger lightly touched his senses. There were the regular type of waiting passengers - a family of Rodians, a young human couple, three other single individuals - all fidgeting in wait of the transit. There was nothing out of the ordinary, nothing apparent to justify caution. A few minutes later, he boarded a beat-up transit and got off at the merchant strip near the sports arena.

Coming to a favorite shop of Qui-Gon's, the padawan entered with the usual door chime announcing his entrance. He quickly passed over the large, expensive wares to the smaller - hopefully - more affordable items near the back of the tiny shop. Not that he preferred to spent little on Qui-Gon, but he just didn't have a lot of credits.

"How may I serve you?" scratched a mechanical voice behind him.

He turned to see a droid, old in design and humanoid in form. "I'm looking for something for a friend. For his birthday. But," Obi-Wan dropped his gaze to the floor, hesitating in embarrassment. "I don't have much to spend."

He felt strange, feeling embarrassed towards a droid. Why should a droid make him uncomfortable? It was not a real person - just a droid. Just a droid, he told himself.

When he looked back up at the droid, he suddenly realized that he was leaning against something that started to give way. Without ample time to recover, the padawan followed the cart down to the floor with an answering loud crash of metal and glass.

In the now deathly silence, he sat up in a slight daze, feeling his face flush. He looked over the mess covering the floor - broken cups, vases, and figurines scattered along with various metal objects.

"What are you doing?" bellowed an angry voice. The Calamarian shopkeeper inhaled a deep breath. "Look at this mess. You've broken my collection of Lattisinian ceremonial bowls. They're rare and very expensive," the shopkeeper inhaled quickly between each sentence, unable to keep his temper in check.

"I'm sorry," the padawan finally said, after gaining his wits about him to stand and push his padawan braid out of his face.

"'Sorry' won't fix everything you've broken. You'll pay for all of this, Jedi," the Calamarian huffed, rubbing his hands together in frustration.

"Yes, sir. I'll pay for it... when I can," Obi-Wan's voice trailed off, knowing he could not afford to pay for all the items that he had broken. But he would try to, someway. He fished out all of his credits and held them out for the shopkeeper. "This is all I have now. I'll pay you the rest as I get it," he sheepishly explained, hoping the shop owner would agree.

"The Sith you will," the Calamarian complained as he grabbed the credits from the padawan's hand. "I'll report you to the Temple for this. They'll pay me for what you owe, and you'll be in trouble with your master."

Obi-Wan nodded in agreement to the shopkeeper's analysis. "Yes, the Temple will pay you."

"And you'll be in trouble," the Calamarian added with a smile, in the closest expression a Calamarian could come to one.

"Yes, sir. You're probably right," Obi-Wan resigned, shifting on his feet uncomfortably.

"What is your name, Jedi?" the Calamarian demanded, stepping closer.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi. And my master is Qui-Gon Jinn." Obi-Wan quietly supplied.

"Get out of here, Jedi. And never come back." The ire-laced voice sent the padawan out the door in a hurry - a hurry to get away from the scene of the crime - as he thought of it - a hurry to get back to the Temple and release his emotions to the Force, and a hurry to lock himself away before anything else terrible happened.

What he would do about Qui-Gon's birthday now, he was not sure. It was only a week until then, and now Obi-Wan was broke. He would have to do some serious thinking to decide what to do for his master, since now he could not afford to buy him anything.

Upset by the unfortunate turn of events, the padawan easily lost his focus on the Force and wandered down the sidewalk, walking as in a daydream towards the transit stop at the end.

Halfway to the stop, a stranger seemingly from nowhere smashed into him, sending the padawan crashing to the duracrete.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," came a baritone voice from above him.

Obi-Wan looked up and met the dark eyes of a human male around forty years of age with short, slick black hair. There was something in his eyes that seemed clear, and yet clouded at the same time.

"It's not your fault, sir. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going," Obi-Wan said as the man hastily helped him to stand.

"You're a Jedi, aren't you?" the man asked quickly, nervousness playing in his actions as his eyes grew nearly frantic.

"Yes, sir," the padawan answered as he straightened his robe.

"I need your help. Someone's just kidnapped my friend, but I'm afraid to go after him. Can you help me?" the man's eyes pleaded. Taking the padawan's arm, he pulled him along the sidewalk before he had time to answer.

"I suppose so," Obi-Wan replied, pushing aside his own worries.

The man led Obi-Wan into a small, nearby hanger where a few spaceships resided. Dark and devoid of life, the hanger had an ominousness that dwelt beneath the shadows - almost whispering warnings of peril.

The man prodded the padawan onward to the bottom of a lowered landing ramp. Obi-Wan peered up into the ship, taking in the bright light inside.

"He's in there," the man whispered, pointing at the interior of the ship. "I watched him carry Vred in there. My friend's a Bith. The kidnapper is human."

Nodding as he stared warily through the ship's open hatch, Obi-Wan sent a quick inquiry through the Force into the ship, but was confused to receive an answer of white noise - indicating something was interfering with its sparks of life. Frowning, he hesitated.

"Please, hurry," the man goaded him, a tone of fear underlining his words.

Turning back to the man beside him, the padawan noted the worry that graced the man's face. "You stay here," he advised, before cautiously creeping up the ramp.

Once inside, Obi-Wan found himself in a brightly lit hallway, and he nearly fell to his knees in agony as his sense of the Force seemed to be instantly tempered and tamed - its singing resonance dulled to a faint whisper. Resting his hand on the wall to steady himself, he closed his eyes, desperately desiring a stronger access to the Force.

It must be a Force-dampening field, he thought to himself.

"Hurry, before that mad man kills Vred," the man frantically hissed up to the padawan still - barely - standing at the ship's threshold.

Pushing aside the disorientation, Obi-Wan staggered down the hallway until he came to an opened door and cautiously stepped inside the room. His eyes quickly swept the tiny room, coming to rest on a small Bith tied to a large pipe running the length of the wall. She was conscious and wide-eyed, staring at the padawan. Obi-Wan rushed to her side, dropping to one knee beside her.

"Keep your hands where I can see them," came a controlled, low voice from behind him. "And turn around... slowly, Padawan."

Suddenly, Obi-Wan's heart began pounding. He quashed the wild panic, realizing his mistake, before standing and turning to face the man behind him. Sure enough, it was the man who had sent him in here to 'rescue' the Bith.

"Now, surrender and place your lightsabre on the floor, or the Bith dies," the man calmly ordered with his blaster trained on the Bith. He walked into the chamber, placing the Bith between himself and Obi-Wan.

Weighing his options, the padawan knew that the Force-dampening field would greatly hinder his response time, which would allow the man to kill the Bith before he could be stopped.

"Don't try my patience," the man's voice dripped with dangerous volatility.

Seeing the grave nature of the situation, the padawan slowly removed his weapon and laid it on the floor, never taking his eyes from the man. "What do you want?" Obi-Wan ventured as he straightened back up.

"You, Padawan. Now... face the wall and place your hands on it. And - I warn you - don't attempt anything foolish, or the innocent little Bith is going to die for your mistakes." The man's dark eyes sharply eyed the padawan, warning.

Reluctantly doing as the man instructed, Obi-Wan heard his lightsabre being retrieved from the floor, and then felt a brief flash of fear as he was violently pushed and held against the wall and felt a sharp sting to his neck.

"It's a Force-suppressant," the man's voice whispered at his ear. "I discovered it myself. It's an extract of a rare plant called the judka. It has some nasty side effects, but it won't kill you," the man informed him. "I'll turn off the dampening field after I'm sure the drug takes effect," the man chuckled. "I don't like it, either."

As the man backed away towards the doorway, Obi-Wan turned around to watch him.

At the door, the man spoke again. "You have outlived your purpose, Vred," he said to the Bith. "Parting this way brings such sadness to my heart," he mocked.

"No, Merrik-" the Bith's soft voice pleaded, strangled to silence by a sudden volley of blaster fire.

"Now," the man spoke to the stunned padawan, who was staring in shock at the dead Bith. "We'll become better acquainted later."

Obi-Wan knelt beside the still bound Bith, as the door swished shut, leaving the padawan alone in the small, empty cargo hold. Ignoring the gush of nausea trying to envelop him, he loosened the bindings that held the dead body to the pipe and gently lowered it to the floor. Then, he backed away and sat against a wall, careful to keep his gaze away from the Bith.

"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan whispered to the dead body. "It's my fault."

* * *

Entering the cargo hold where his Jedi prisoner was, Merrik Tennosa carried a bowl of slimy soup and crouched beside the sleeping padawan. Then he set the bowl on the floor and shook the padawan's shoulder to wake him.

Opening his eyes, Obi-Wan saw his captor's dark eyes staring menacingly down at him.

"Time to eat," Tennosa informed him as he stood up, keeping his blaster aimed at Obi-Wan.

How long Obi-Wan had been asleep or on this ship he wasn't sure, but he knew it had been many hours. He could feel the subtle vibrations of the ship, indicating they were travelling through space. Pushing himself to a sitting position, he glanced to the bowl of gray soup. Its unappetizing appearance matched the padawan's desire to eat. He assumed that the drug his captor had given him caused nausea and dizziness, for he now felt both rushing wildly through him.

Swallowing back a swell of nausea, Obi-Wan said, "Who are you, and why are you doing this?"

"Drop the formalities and shoot straight to business, eh?" Tennosa asked with a twisted smile. "My mother told me Jedi were too arrogant for negotiations. You are all more suitable to make demands - a trait I find all too often in the Republic's 'peacekeepers'." He spat out the last word as if he were pained to pronounce it.

Obi-Wan watched the man warily. He took in the man's appearance that he had failed to notice earlier. He stood a little taller than the padawan. His broad shoulders and built chest muscles were carefully concealed beneath a generous black cloak. The man's slick black hair was short and slightly unkempt, while his face had that deranged look found in mental wards. But, Obi-Wan knew the man's intelligence lay hidden beneath that outward appearance.

"I'm Force-sensitive - not identified until too late by your Temple's wise standards," Tennosa started in derision, pacing the small chamber. "So, I've made a lifetime of intense search and study of Force knowledge. Coming to the sad conclusion that the Force is more steeped in ancient tradition skillfully guarded from the prying eyes of any unwanted pupils by a band of hostile elitists for more centuries than I even care to wonder about, I decided to make a more empirical study... and kidnap a Jedi. I wanted a padawan nearing the final years of studies, but not as threatening as a full-fledged Jedi Knight. And you, my lab subject, have been unmeticulously chosen to fill that need. I must thank you for showing up so soon, so I would not have to look long."

"What do you think you can learn from me?" the padawan inquired. As the raging dizziness rose, he rubbed the back of his hand across his forehead.

"I want to understand your thinking. Why do Jedi do the things they do? Is there a method to your reasoning? Or do you just 'follow the will of the Force', as one of your own once told me," Tennosa said with a sparkle in his eye. "Perhaps you can give me insight into this aspect of the Living Force that seems to elude many of the Temple's greats in favor of an unhealthy thirst for premonitions and other visionary conundrums." He paused, his eyes glazing over. "Consider me a hungry mouth to feed."

"Or a blackhole with no escape?" Obi-Wan added sarcastically.

Laughing, Tennosa looked back at the padawan. "This is going to be great fun."

"For you, maybe," Obi-Wan replied.

"And it can be for you, if you cooperate." Suddenly all humor left the man's expressions, leaving in its wake coldness.

"Why did you kill..." Obi-Wan's voice died off as he looked back to the Bith.

"She was becoming... a nuisance," Tennosa's mouth curled up in distaste. "I should have gotten rid of her a long time ago. But, enough of that," he stopped at the door. "Eat your soup," he ordered and disappeared behind the closing door.

Obi-Wan glanced back at the bowl of gray soup, and felt the nausea wash over him again. Turning away from it, he laid back down to think. He had already tried the door earlier, finding it locked. Qui-Gon would notice him missing sometime soon, he surmised, and begin looking for him. But, he felt sure that his master could not track them - not across the galaxy like this. He sighed, wondering why he had let himself become so reckless as to fall for the captor's trick. Am I that stupid, he asked himself.

* * *

Forcing himself to swallow the excuse for soup that was the only thing Tennosa fed him, Obi-Wan fought down the sickness racing through him. After a couple of days of being trapped in this small cell, the padawan had finally given in and eaten the food that was brought to him, and - despite his body's need for sustenance - had thrown it up more times than it had stayed down. Now - in retrospect - he felt appreciative of the Temple's daily rations.

Suddenly, the deck lurched upwards, then downwards. Thrown against the wall, Obi-Wan fought to find something to hold on to. As he was tossed about like a rag doll - his body colliding with the walls and the Bith's decaying body that his captor had so ungraciously not removed - Obi-Wan unconsciously reached for the Force for help, and he nearly panicked when he remembered that he was drugged and could not access it.

As his head came into contact with a wall - entirely too hard for the padawan's taste - he slipped into blissful unconsciousness, leaving behind the wild excitement permeating the realm of reality.

* * *

A cool breeze.

A peaceful, gentle quietude.

A pause of vain rest.

Then came a slap - hard - that sent his head to the side. Opening his eyes, the padawan squinted up into the hateful eyes of the man who had kidnapped him a few days ago.

"We need to get going," the man gruffly said. "I want you fully awake by the time I get our supplies ready."

Obi-Wan noticed that he sat with his back against a tree, his hands bound in front of him, and that he was tied with a second rope to the tree towering over him.

Tennosa busily worked at loosening the rope binding him to the tree.

"What happened," asked the padawan's voice laced with confusion.

"The ship's navi-computer miscalculated the coordinates, and brought us out of hyperspace too late," Tennosa explained in frustration. "Then we hit an orbiting asteroid that spun the ship out of control and into the planet's atmosphere. I gained enough control to land and probably saved your life in the process. Then I pulled you out of a mess of bent-up metal pipes. You owe me one, Jedi."

"Owe you?" Obi-Wan blurted out. "If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be here in the first place," exclaimed the padawan sarcastically, which - to his dismay - earned him another slap.

"We'll have to walk the rest of the way there," Tennosa said, standing.

Freed from the tree's rope, Obi-Wan watched Tennosa walk away, entering the twisted wreck of the ship they had crashed in. After noticing the landscape around him was being gently washed with a fine mist of rain, he turned his attention to his right ankle, which hurt terribly. Moving it uncertainly, he winced when a sharp pain shot through it. He decided to keep it to himself as long as he could - for he knew not if his captor would help or hinder the injury.

* * *

TBC


	2. Isolation

TITLE: MILES TO GO  
AUTHOR: Cascadia  
TIME: 6 years pre-TPM, Obi-Wan is 19  
RATING: PG or PG-13  
CATEGORY: Drama/Angst, Non-Slash  
SUMMARY: Padawan Obi-Wan is kidnapped by a Force-sensitive. Can he overcome without the Force? Without Qui-Gon?  
ARCHIVE: Please ask first. Sites who have previously archived any of my stories may archive any of them that they want to without asking.   
DISCLAIMER: All recognizable characters are the property of Lucasfilm Limited. All the rest belong to me. I receive absolutely no profit from this.  
  
  
  
  
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CHAPTER 2 - ISOLATION  
  
  
  
The Force was far away, like a soaring riko-bird - distant, unreachable, unable to be captured or grasped in hand. The gaping hole left by its absence loomed like a swirling blackhole, pulling and swallowing every attempt to escape its ferocious appetite. He knew that it was there. But every attempt to touch it was like trying to hold water in his hand. It lived and breathed around him, singing the never-ending songs of love and peace that rode on the wind, through the trees, along the gushing rivers and across the wide valleys. But now, a black void was all he could feel.  
  
Its absence felt undeniably disturbing, leaving him insecure and with flickering feelings of helplessness. Having trusted in it and relied so heavily on it for his entire life, only to now have no awareness of it at all was utterly distressing. It was his life's anchor. And now, all of its precious remnants were missing, as a curtain of blindness surrounded him.  
  
Where once there were the soothing, warming rays of balmy energy and ecstatic impulses now lay a vast wasteland of lingering emptiness and confusion - scattered to the winds of loss and abandonment.   
  
It was gone... for now. He forced humble acceptance of his situation, assuring himself that it would return - eventually. But was he lying to himself? Would he ever return to the Temple? Would he ever see Qui-Gon again? Where once the Force filled him with brave certainty and tender assurances, now crept in doubts, fears, and near hopelessness.  
  
Free of the ship's cargo hold, the full weight of his predicament began to set in. No Force. No Qui-Gon. No help.  
  
As a gentle tropical breeze tenderly touched his face, he opened his eyes, taking in the environment where he knelt. The green, leafy vegetation and bright jewel-tone colors of blooming, twisted vines and exotic flowers waved flirtatiously, nodding in the soft winds - damp from the morning dew and drawn with divine perfection. Emerald plumes and curving, knotted tree trunks were painted with loving brushstrokes.  
  
Sparkling sapphire-winged insects fluttered amidst the dew-covered petals, gathering stores of honey-flavored sustenance. Their low drone hummed with a lulling tenderness.   
  
The thick early morning mist had ended only half an hour before, leaving the landscape awash in chilled, crisp droplets and clear puddles of fresh rainwater. Aromatic botanical scents lingered in the cool of the morning as a pungent perfume - seductively sweet and spicily exotic to the senses. The woody scents of the musky baccra, the zukk-rum, and the citric yeque tree rounded out a full bouquet of tropical ambrosia.  
  
The transcendent glow of plum and rose washing with liquefied streaks of silver illuminated the waking dawn sky overhead - the brightness shining, blazing like the birth cycle of an undying paradise, perfect in all beauty, perfect in all mystery, perfect in all and all.   
  
Perfect. Save for the looming absence of the Force.  
  
The maddening silence of the Force sparked infant tendrils of panic, which were quickly quelled by the padawan's determined intent to remain at peace. He had dealt before with no Force connection, but that did not guarantee an easy battle.  
  
He bit back the unease clawing at his fragile tranquility beneath the stoic facade a Jedi was expected to project. Outside, he appeared calm and at peace. But on the inside, a tiny flicker of fear lapped at his resolve, and he worried that any sheer temperament would not go unnoticed by his unwanted companion.  
  
As a nineteen-year-old Jedi apprentice, he considered himself experienced enough to wade through the dangerously swirling tides of emotion. He could conquer this, he assured himself. With or without the Force. With or without help from any outside source. And - most importantly - without Qui-Gon, if need be. At least... he hoped so on all accounts.  
  
Normally, Obi-Wan would not consider striving without the Force, but he presently had no choice. Qui-Gon would expect it of him in such a situation, and he could not disappoint his master. No, he could never do that - could never let him down, never hurt him by his own inadequacies.  
  
He was sure Qui-Gon would not be coming for him. His master could not know where he was. He was probably still on Coruscant trying in vain to find his missing padawan.  
  
It seemed Obi-Wan's only hope lay in his own ability to handle the stark situation.  
  
A brightening luminosity from the exquisite arch of heaven overhead beckoned his attention to the clearing skies, glowing a purest celestial white.  
  
Why is ideal beauty always hidden?   
  
Here, on this sith-forsaken planet, at the far reaches of the Republic - strangely absent from navi-computers and star charts - breathed the most unimaginable, breathtaking place this padawan had ever seen.  
  
His bright turquoise eyes dropped to the thick leather cord tightly encircling his wrists. The dark brown tether painfully dug into his flesh, chafing and bruising. It hadn't been there long. Only since last night when they crashed on this paradisiacal planet.  
  
Now, he was a captive in an enchanted garden of delights.  
  
Alerted to his companion's approach by the soft crunching of twigs underfoot, he looked up from his bound wrists.  
  
Merrik Tennosa came around to the front of Obi-Wan and stopped in front of his Jedi captive, eyeing him contemptuously. Eyes dark and cold stared at the padawan, who met his gaze with placid grace.  
  
Now his eyes bore hard into his captive, attempting to cultivate any seed of fear that may be there. So far, the padawan had remained serenely in control of his emotions.  
  
Obi-Wan struggled to keep his exterior at peace while Tennosa stared at him. There was just an inking of fear that he subtly tried to squelch without giving away its presence. Although he wondered if his eyes gave away the internal struggle, he held the man's gaze trying to relay a sense of unshakable tranquility.  
  
Tennosa stepped warily closer, swinging his blaster barrel up to point it at the padawan.   
  
"Stand up," he gruffly ordered, his posture tensing.  
  
After a moment's hesitation, Obi-Wan struggled to his feet, trying to keep from putting much pressure on his right ankle. It hurt considerably, but he kept a calm countenance even as a spike of pain shot through his ankle. In the back of his mind, he wondered if it had been broken in the crash. Whether broken or not, it was most assuredly in need of medical attention.  
  
Obi-Wan's clothes - damp from the early morning mist - limply clung to his lithe frame. Their sticky sogginess stimulated an uncomfortable chill. He suppressed a mild shiver that threatened to surface and locked eyes with Tennosa, projecting a solid aura of peace. With the pain of his ankle - and the uncertainty of the future - he wondered how long he could maintain a stoic facade before he gave in to despair.  
  
Tennosa stared into the padawan's eyes of soft turquoise. The captive's attractive, youthful features radiated grace and innate beauty - traits that Tennosa previously assumed would not be present in one trained for deadly combat. But looks could most definitely be deceiving, he reminded himself. No matter how easy it had been to capture the padawan, this one he would not underestimate.  
  
To Tennosa, the padawan appeared a tower of unshifting confidence. But he knew that every being - no matter how strongly anchored - had a breaking point, where the mind's insecurities and uncertainties gave way to a waterfall of despair.   
  
The padawan must feel at least a small stab of fear from his unwanted separation from the Force - a separation from his life's only constant support. And that was what Tennosa intended to use.  
  
What he would ultimately do with the padawan, he wasn't sure. All that was sure was that he would learn more about the Force - more about a Jedi's thinking - by observing and questioning him.   
  
He intended to take him back to his hidden mansion deep in the thick forest, but that was miles from here, and the rain forest offered its share of difficulties - from flora and fauna alike.  
  
Tennosa cautiously circled around to the back of his captive. "Walk," he commanded, giving an ungentle nudge to Obi-Wan's shoulder.  
  
Closing his mind to the pain, Obi-Wan took a tentative step forward, followed by another, and another, until he was walking a seemingly normal stride. But, oh, did it hurt.  
  
He shook off the spiking pains in his ankle, and bit his lower lip to keep from crying out. He could make it, he encouraged himself. He could - and would.  
  
  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
A light rain fell through the leaves of the trees above them, drifting down to cover everything in a soft mist. The sound of the mistdrops splattering on the leaves and down to the moist ground below produced a steady, peaceful roar - while the emerald hues of the vegetation intensely brightened under the gentle wash of rain.  
  
His inability to sense things through the Force forced him to completely take in things on a sensory level through sight, smell, taste, touch, and sound. The smell of the tropical flowers, the heady woods, the minty and bitter ferns, the passionate cooing by lavishly festive-feathered birds, the breathtaking visuals. It all seemed foreign to him with his lack of a connection to them through the Force - namely the Living Force.  
  
That brought to mind his Jedi master. Qui-Gon's faith to that philosophy had sent their relationship into many conflicts in the past. While Obi-Wan could sense things in the past and future better than his master could, Qui-Gon lived in the moment.  
  
But it was not that Obi-Wan disagreed with the Living Force, but his inner strengths lay far greater with the other Jedi philosophy - the Unifying Force.   
  
Now the padawan had no such connection - whether Living or Unifying. And no way of dealing with his predicament apart from his other - less encompassing - senses. He'd used the Force to move inanimate objects, to strengthen weakened muscles, to move in synchronism with the ways of the mysterious, and to rise above pains that any non-sensitive would cave in to. But now pleasures - as well as pains - took their turn for his newfound captive attention.  
  
The stabbing pain in Obi-Wan's ankle only increased the further they walked. It was all he could do to remain silent and not cry out from the blazing pain now consuming his foot and lower leg. They had walked for several hours, Obi-Wan estimated. Travelling at such a slow pace, he wondered how long it would take to reach Tennosa's mansion. He was not even aware of how far they had crashed from it. If it were very far, Obi-Wan felt sure he'd never make it on his ankle without the aid of the Force.  
  
How he dearly wished they would stop - just for a little while - to rest his injury. But he would dare not mention the injury to his companion. He did not know what the man might do about it - whether help or aggravate the pain, for he weighed the risk too great to chance it.   
  
Although he had been given nothing to eat since before they had crashed here the day before, he did not crave food. The plant extract that Tennosa had injected him with had numerous negative side effects - including nausea and dizziness as the two most prevalent. He remembered once when he was ten, after eating too many Alderaanian cream cones how his insides twisted and his stomach retched for relief that would not come. In the same way now, an insatiable, billowing nausea enveloped him, sending him into prolonged physical distress. Yet, through lack of sufficient bodily sustenance, his energy slowly drained from him.  
  
"Stop," said Tennosa, with a hint of icy suspicion in his tone.  
  
Halting as the light mist dripped off of him, the padawan kept his back to the man, praying that Tennosa could not sense anything from him. But, he warned himself, with Tennosa's slight Force skills, the man may indeed.   
  
Tennosa strolled around to the front of the padawan, keeping the blaster trained on him.   
  
"You're limping," he stated with a slight chuckle. His eyes of ebony held a taste of glee - however suffused with a hint of threat - at his new discovery.  
  
A ripple of panic escaped the padawan before he desperately clamped it down. But the fear had already danced behind his eyes. Obi-Wan knew he had started limping, but hoped that it was too imperceptible for Tennosa to notice.   
  
"Why have you not mentioned it?" the elder man asked, his baritone voice ominously low. "Were you afraid of what I might do?" the volatility evident in his tone.  
  
Swallowing as much unease as he could, Obi-Wan answered, "what if I was?" His voice wavered slightly.   
  
"Are you afraid of me?" Tennosa asked, stepping closer, purposefully invading Obi-Wan's personal space.   
  
"N- no," replied the padawan, never looking away from his captor's gaze.  
  
"Yes, you are, but you won't admit it," the elder man spat out - his eyes ablaze, searching the padawan's face. "Is that something they teach you at the Temple? To lie about being afraid, to deny perfectly natural emotions? Or are you not a fine specimen of Jedi discipline?"  
  
Gathering a cloak of courage, Obi-Wan answered him. "You don't understand the Jedi. We can't deny emotion, it's real and natural. There's no one who can live without emotions. It's what we do with them that makes us-"  
  
"And what do you do with them?" Tennosa interrupted.  
  
"We release them to the Force," Obi-Wan said quietly, unsure why he was debating Jedi philosophy with this man.  
  
"There is no emotion; there is peace," Tennosa quickly recited. "So what does this mean? You release your emotions to the Force and it gives you peace?" he asked.  
  
"Yes," the padawan replied quietly.  
  
"But what's wrong with emotion?" asked Tennosa.  
  
"Nothing - as long as we don't let them control our actions," Obi-Wan said.  
  
"So are you letting your fear of me control your actions?"  
  
Obi-Wan considered what he was asking. He knew that he'd kept his injury a secret because he feared what Tennosa would do to him. So in a sense, Tennosa was right. But he was loath to admit it.  
  
"Yes, you are," Tennosa answered for him, his eyebrows raising in triumph.  
  
"But I can't feel the Force," Obi-Wan said, exasperated.  
  
"So that's your excuse, is it? All of your training is in vain without the Force to control your actions?" Tennosa reasoned.  
  
"No," the padawan said, with rising annoyance. "It's not in vain. We couldn't use the Force as well without it. And the Force doesn't just control us, but it also obeys our commands."  
  
"So it's a give and take? You give it your swelling emotions, which you have admitted that you have, and it - in return - gives you peace that you can't achieve without it," he excitedly stated.   
  
"Yes," the padawan answered emphatically.   
  
"Then you have no peace," Tennosa said in conclusion. "Your fear has no place to go." The excitement fled from Tennosa's eyes and was replaced by a cold, cruel stare.  
  
As Obi-Wan felt his slim resolve slipping, his heart pounded nervously in his chest. Tennosa knew he felt afraid of him now, and would undoubtedly use it to his advantage in some way. Now, this revelation opened up a ripe field of naked vulnerability for his captor to use and abuse. He felt a small brush of despair hacking away at his shining tower of hope.  
  
"Now, shall we continue?" said Tennosa, his smooth voice laced with menace. His hateful eyes held the padawan's, sending dark wisps of terror straight to the padawan's soul.  
  
Grabbing Obi-Wan's arm with a bruising grip, Tennosa roughly propelled him forward, along the way they had been travelling. But with his weakened ankle caught off guard, he landed on his stomach on the moist ground, the air forced from his lungs from the impact. Gasping for breath, the padawan instinctively reached for help from the Force and felt an overwhelming panic when it was not there.  
  
Before he could adequately recover, Tennosa jerked him to his feet. The padawan instinctively pulled back from the bruising grip attempting to free himself - which proved difficult with his wrists bound.  
  
In a split second, Tennosa had Obi-Wan pushed back against the trunk of a knobby tree. Then he said quietly, "I will not hurt you, if you will cooperate. Do you understand me?" his dangerously low voice asked, as his grip stilled Obi-Wan's movements.  
  
Avoiding the man's eyes, Obi-Wan nodded tightly, although he felt unsure whether to believe him or not. He reached for what calm he could scrounge from his low reserves. Trying to cope without the Force was never an easy task - especially when it was all he had been taught his whole life. And Tennosa had given him no reason to trust him, with the killing of the Bith as the first - and foremost - event in the padawan's mind of why not to.  
  
"Now, I think I should warn you that it would be detrimental to you to try to escape," Tennosa continued. "There are many things here that you have no knowledge about. For instance," he pointed to a large azure-petalled flower. "This flower is extremely poisonous to any human. Any light touch to its thorns and you'd be dead within three hours. There are many other dangers of which I will not tell you unless necessary. So for your own safety, I suggest you do as I say. Do you understand me?"  
  
Obi-Wan cautiously nodded, slowly raising his eyes to Tennosa's.  
  
With a cold smile, Tennosa went on lyrically, "I know of a place we can stop to rest for awhile - and if need be - we can stay there overnight. For we would dare not want to be left out in the open in the dark. There are many creatures that would not take kindly to... intruders."  
  
Tennosa bent to the ground to retrieve the small satchel of supplies recovered from the ship, then set off through the wet vegetation, pulling Obi-Wan after him.  
  
Emerging from a dense cropping of waving vegetation, they came to an abrupt stop. Tennosa pulled Obi-Wan around in front of him to see why they had stopped.  
  
Before them stood a humongous tree - hundreds of feet thick in diameter, huge limbs stretching and turning in a pattern of chaos, draped with rain-covered limp round leaves. The tree seemed to pass beyond where the surrounding vegetation began, and snaked far out into the forest.  
  
"Come. Our haven awaits." Tennosa's upswept eyes sparkled with excitement. He dragged the padawan after him to the base of the tree.  
  
Obi-Wan watched as Tennosa removed a rope from his satchel and flung one end of it up over a limb above their heads.   
  
Catching the rope's end as it came down over the limb, Tennosa turned to Obi-Wan. "You first," he said as he looped the rope and placed it around the padawan's waist. "See that dark hollowed out hole up about twenty feet?" he asked, pointing.  
  
"Yes," Obi-Wan answered, reluctant to receive any instruction from this man.   
  
"When I pull you up to that, swing in there and then free yourself of the rope so I can come up too."  
  
Obi-Wan hesitated. "What about my hands?" he asked, raising his bound wrists in a show of handicap.  
  
A half smile graced Tennosa's face. "I think you can make it like that. And don't try anything once you get up there," he added, as he pulled the rope taut.  
  
  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
Climbing through the hole, Obi-Wan pulled the rope off of him and tossed it back out. Then he sat for a moment, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.  
  
It appeared to be a large, cavernous recess - very deep and very high ceilinged, with the smell of dank wood and warm in contrast to the cool misty air outside. The floor was shiny smooth, other than the scattered leaves. He scooted further into the darkness as he heard Tennosa nearing the nook's mouth.  
  
Tennosa cleared the opening and pulled the rest of the rope in, coiling it up carefully. Then he stood and walked further into the recess.  
  
Obi-Wan saw a glow rod spark to life suddenly, illuminating Tennosa's hard features.  
  
"Come and eat," Tennosa quietly ordered as he sat and started rummaging through his satchel.  
  
"I don't want anything to eat," Obi-Wan replied, swallowing convulsively as he fought a sudden upsurge of nausea.  
  
A bark of laughter erupted from Tennosa. "Yes. I suppose so. That judka extract is rather nasty, isn't it?" A smile graced his lips as he turned, taking in the padawan's sickly appearance. Still at the mouth of the tree-cave Obi-Wan sat - shoulders slumped, head bowed, clothes drenched, and lightly shivering from the cool breeze blowing in the cave.  
  
He would have to congratulate himself later on this slow deterioration of a Jedi padawan - but not just any padawan. He knew who this one was. Of course, it was a pure accident that this one happened to be the one most convenient to kidnap. But still, he found the irony laughable.  
  
"You must eat something," Tennosa persuaded. "You'll die without nourishment."  
  
"Does it matter?" Obi-Wan grumbled, more to himself.  
  
"It does if you want to see Jinn again," Tennosa teasingly said, enjoying the recognition dawn on the padawan as he lifted his head to look at him.  
  
After a short silence, Obi-Wan started, "How did you-"  
  
"It doesn't matter," interrupted Tennosa with a smile. "What does matter, is that you're here with me, and Jinn knows nothing about it. Now... come here and eat something."  
  
Considering his options, the padawan decided it would prove foolish to attempt climbing down the tree with his trussed wrists and injured ankle. With that thought conceded, he crawled closer to Tennosa, keeping a safe distance from him.  
  
Tennosa handed Obi-Wan a small ration bar.   
  
"No more slimy soup?" said the padawan with a tone of heavy sarcasm, as he took the proffered bar.  
  
Tennosa chuckled lightly before answering. "I couldn't bring the liquid rations, and besides, what I DID bring is enough to get where we're going." He leaned back against the wall of the wooden cave, eating a bar similar to the one he had given Obi-Wan.  
  
"Where ARE we going?" the padawan asked.  
  
Pausing to swallow, Tennosa said, "to my hide-out - my home on this little planet."  
  
Obi-Wan's mind drifted back over the last few days. After sneaking out of the Temple to find his master a gift, he found himself easily tricked and shanghaied away to this planet by a man intent on learning more about the Force. A tiny thread of worry ran through his thoughts, through his dreams at night, through his actions, and the Force was distant - offering no needed comfort in this tragic predicament. Inhaling deeply, he refocused his conscious thoughts back to the present. If there was any way to escape this, any way to return to his chosen life, then he would have to keep himself focused and wary.  
  
Looking at the small ration bar Tennosa had given him, Obi-Wan forced himself to eat a few bites, despite his sickly churning stomach. As he ate he wondered how Tennosa knew about Master Qui-Gon, and why he was handing him the slight ray of hope of seeing his master again.  
  
Lost in his thoughts, Obi-Wan was suddenly startled when Tennosa grabbed him, pinning him against the wood floor, and pressed something painful to his throat.  
  
"Time for another injection," Tennosa informed the padawan who was trying to extricate himself from Tennosa's tight hold on him - a hold that Obi-Wan felt sure was Force-enhanced. Given the man's isolated study of the Force - or so the padawan assumed, from what Tennosa had told him - Tennosa had a good command of some Force abilities, while other skills appeared to be sorely lacking, such as sensing Obi-Wan's emotions. Tennosa could pick up on some of the padawan's feelings, he was sure, but Tennosa also displayed a very unpredictable grasp of that ability.  
  
Unable to free himself from Tennosa's hold, Obi-Wan soon felt a sharp sting, herding in a fresh swell of nausea and dizziness. He was surprised at how fast the drug seemed to affect him this time. With the initial injection Tennosa gave him when he first kidnapped him, the symptoms took a few minutes before he felt anything. Considering this was only his second injection, the padawan surmised that the drug lasted a few days in his system before wearing off. That meant that his chances of regaining the Force would not come for a few more days. Until then, he was stuck without it.   
  
  
TBC 


	3. Shard of Hope

Sorry this took so long, but I didn't want to post it until I was sure it was ready. ;)  
  
TITLE: MILES TO GO  
AUTHOR: Cascadia  
TIME: 6 years pre-TPM, Obi-Wan is 19  
RATING: PG or PG-13  
CATEGORY: Drama/Angst, Non-Slash  
SUMMARY: Padawan Obi-Wan is kidnapped by a Force-sensitive. Can he overcome without the Force? Without Qui-Gon?  
ARCHIVE: Please ask first. Sites who have previously archived any of my stories may archive any of them that they want to without asking. See bio for archived sites.  
DISCLAIMER: All recognizable characters are the property of Lucasfilm Limited. All the rest belong to me. I receive absolutely no profit from this.  
  
  
  
  
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CHAPTER 3 - SHARD OF HOPE  
  
  
  
It was dark. Void. And as he stared absently in the indistinguishable distance through the window, Obi-Wan's Jedi master was swept away once again in suspension - an abeyance of life. His mind aimlessly tossed about in a sea of worry unbefitting a Jedi master of his experience. Deeply inhaling to fill his lungs to capacity, he held his breath a few seconds before letting the air escape.  
  
How long had it been?   
  
Carefully counting each day - desperately running through every activity - since his padawan's mysterious disappearance, Qui-Gon quickly - and thoroughly - relived the initial horror of realizing that Obi-Wan might never be found and every agonizing minute since then.  
  
Everything felt unreal - a cruel illusion. Each day was more like walking through a horrifying dream. Subtle reminders here and there of the one person that had taken up so much of his life for the last six years, pressed into his awareness, sending him reeling at each turn of the page.   
  
Now with no single shred of evidence in sight of where Obi-Wan could be, the Jedi master was near to giving in to despair. A cluttering of images - gory and gruesome - instantly sprang to mind when he considered what could have possibly become of his padawan.  
  
He missed the youth's curious questions, the quiet replies when rebuked, the cocky sense of humor, and that unmistakably unique voice that traced a long, unbroken cord connecting one day to the next.  
  
As Qui-Gon imagined his padawan's sweet smile, the memory now seemed bleak - not at all comforting, but bittersweet and colored in deep sorrow.  
  
The constant absence of that youth - and the buzzing silence of their training bond - had nearly driven him to his knees to plead with the Force for some kind of explanation - any explanation.   
  
For all the years that Qui-Gon had fought to keep his heart from ever feeling anything again, one small child had slipped past his carefully constructed armor and claimed a large share of his scarred heart - bringing the bright, sunny warmth of morning and the gentle, cool rinse of rain... the bubbling joy of laughter, and the lyric of music.  
  
Despite the grating rejection and the disappointments peppered throughout their relationship, the child had fiercely latched onto him - and never turned away. Through it all... the child had remained faithful.  
  
For once in his life, Qui-Gon knew what unconditional love was. He was taught that lesson by that same child, who never let 'no' change his mind or turn him from the path he felt compelled to walk.  
  
And now that child was gone... somewhere, where he undoubtedly wanted not to be.  
  
When he had awoken earlier from a nightmare, Qui-Gon had given up on sleeping and retreated to the common room of his apartment to try to meditate. As the ease for meditation that he usually experienced shriveled away, indifferently withdrawing from his scrambling reach, the Jedi master forlornly retreated to his favorite chair.  
  
Yawning and rubbing his eyes in an attempt to clear his bleary vision, Qui-Gon sank back into his cushiony chair, his broad shoulders slumped. This was always the worst time - when the nothingness of night obstinately rolled into his life, crushing the tiny wisps of hope that he had so stubbornly refused to relinquish. He felt stripped of the future, robbed of the past... and - above all else - tortured to his soul by the absence of that one loving child in the presence of each waking day.  
  
A distant chime resonated into his awareness. Its gentle intonation grew to a rude echo - over and over until Qui-Gon blinked back to the present. He looked down at the ceramic mug cupped in his hands. His full cup of tea was undoubtedly cold by now.  
  
Setting the mug aside, the Jedi master rose to his feet, feeling his weight, and shuffled to the door.  
  
Swishing open, the door revealed Master Yoda - Councilor and great Jedi Master. The little green-skinned creature was considered the wisest of all the Jedi, and he unselfishly dispensed said wisdom when time permitted or the Force prodded.  
  
"Master Yoda. What are you doing here... at this hour?" Qui-Gon found his voice soft and hollow to his own ears.  
  
Without comment the little Councilor hobbled his way past Qui-Gon and proceeded to sit on a chair, with his soft moans punctuating the trip.  
  
Qui-Gon closed the door and joined Yoda in the common room, returning to his favorite chair. He was not entirely surprised to receive this kind visitor in the middle of the night. Yoda was very attuned to the Force and followed its lead more diligently than anyone else Qui-Gon had ever known.  
  
After clearing his throat, the tall Jedi asked, "what brings you here, Master?"   
  
A gentle sigh was all the answer that came from Yoda, and he remained unmoving from his perch on the chair. With his large eyes closed, Yoda appeared deep in thought... or asleep.   
  
Qui-Gon stared back out the window, another spectral vision of his padawan playing through his mind.  
  
"Your thoughts, where are they? Hmm?" said Yoda, now studying the younger master.   
  
"Obi-Wan." The words came as light as a whisper, but the weight they carried far surpassed anything else he could have said.  
  
A pause of silence deepened the sobriety of Qui-Gon's confession.  
  
Yoda had already known his struggle, but Qui-Gon - with his personality - had not mentioned how deeply affected he had been to anyone, not so much as venting any worrisome emotions or doubts in any sort of release. Qui-Gon kept his feelings mostly to himself - a practice carried since long before, when another pupil had taken that outward show of emotion and cruelly twisted it. Now waves of despair rolled off the younger master, bombarding the peaceful ripples of the Force generated by the tiny councilor. Yoda had suspected this downward spiral - though not by reason alone, but also by Force revelation.  
  
"Fear for him you do. Hmm?" Yoda said in a gentle voice.   
  
"Yes, Master. I don't know what I can do." answered Qui-Gon with a vain attempt to cover his tormented soul.   
  
Yoda tapped his gimer stick lightly on the chair. "Focus not on the negative, Qui-Gon. Mindful of your thoughts you must be. Face your fears you must, but rule you let them not."   
  
"Yes. I know," Qui-Gon quietly replied.  
  
"Know you do, but practice it you do not." Yoda's drooping ears accentuated his disappointment.   
  
A frown creased the younger master's forehead. "But, I miss him," his voice dripped with sorrow.  
  
"And miss him too, I do. But stop, you must," Yoda said. "Lost to fear and hopelessness will you be, if release your emotions to the Force you will not."  
  
"Yes, I know," Qui-Gon sighed. Although he said it, the ability to actually do it seemed to lie far away, beyond his reach.   
  
"Do him no good do you, by wallowing in self pity. Be mindful of your thoughts, Qui-Gon," added Yoda, with a hint of a reprimand, his large eyes luminous as they watched the younger master. "Once of a very wise Jedi it was said: knew as much as any other he did, but until learn to practice what he knew, then most foolish of fools was he," Yoda paused, sighing. "Still much to learn have you, Qui-Gon. Let go your fear to the Force." Yoda poked Qui-Gon's knee with his gimer stick. "What now does it tell you?"  
  
"I'm not sure," whispered Qui-Gon. He sipped his tea, savoring its tang, almost as if he had never tasted it before. Everything appeared soberly different now - after Obi-Wan's disappearance - as if previously veiled, but now suddenly exposed.  
  
After a stretch of silence, the younger master looked over at Yoda. The little creature sat completely still, his eyes closed in deep thought or meditation.  
  
"Why do you think Obi-Wan was at 'Odkar's Wares' the night he disappeared?" Qui-Gon stated. "He didn't tell me he was going anywhere."   
  
Blinking his huge eyes, Yoda said, "there for you, I think."  
  
"For me?" Qui-Gon asked, dumbfounded.  
  
Yoda sighed heavily. He never ceased to be surprised at Qui-Gon's inability to recognize his own padawan's loving devotion towards him.  
  
"Why would he be there for me?" asked Qui-Gon, sitting up straighter. His mind searched for any reason.  
  
Staring into Qui-Gon's deep-blue eyes, the little master said, "tell you not that go there he would. Birthday have you soon, Qui-Gon. A gift for you he sought."  
  
"And he ended up being chewed out by Odkar for breaking some expensive items," Qui-Gon solemnly added.   
  
Wells of tears sprang to Qui-Gon's eyes. Wiping them away, he leaned back in his chair again, attempting to find a more relaxing position.   
  
He let his mind drift back to how he had seen Obi-Wan before he left to talk to Yoda that night. The padawan was clearly upset that Qui-Gon would not confide in him, but was still intent to buy him something for his birthday.  
  
Then the day after Obi-Wan disappeared, the Calamarian shopkeeper had called the Jedi Temple informing them of what had taken place there the night before, and had demanded full reimbursement for all the items that the padawan had broken or damaged.  
  
Going by the time that Odkar said Obi-Wan had left his shop, the padawan must have left the Temple to go there right after Qui-Gon left to speak with Yoda. The padawan evidently had been planning on going there some time for him to leave the Temple as quickly as he did.  
  
What if Qui-Gon had never left the apartment that night? What if he had decided to tell Obi-Wan, instead of considering it something private for the time being? Perhaps if Qui-Gon had not felt the need to talk to Yoda about it....  
  
He had already gone through all of this. A million 'what if's' stretched into infinity.  
  
But despite it all, his padawan was still missing and may never be coming home. Qui-Gon sensed that Obi-Wan remained alive, and that his presence was not near, but someplace far off, another planet.  
  
Qui-Gon rubbed his fatigued eyes. "I need a ship... to go look for him."  
  
"And search the whole galaxy you plan?" Yoda asked skeptically.  
  
"I have to do something," he mumbled.   
  
  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
Fear. A perfectly normal emotion... and reaction to outside sources or internal struggles, elements originating within or without. Sometimes fear comes for valid reasons, sometimes from the imagined....  
  
He remembered his difficult struggle with fear as an initiate. It nearly cost him his future as a Jedi - now it could very well cost him his life. Letting fear rule his actions might do that, he reminded himself. But if everything he had learned about dealing with it was someway tied to the Force and his connection to it, then how was he expected to deal with it now when his ability to touch and call on the Force for assistance was gone? Would any attempt to do so be fruitful or simply a waste of precious energy?  
  
Determined to keep hope alive and subvert all of his distress, Obi-Wan focused on his mentor. Qui-Gon would help him if he knew he were here, the padawan desperately encouraged himself. However, since the tall Jedi master - in all probability - did not, Obi-Wan imagined his master here, ready to give him instruction when necessary. He imagined the training bond in full capacity. Where - in reality - there was silence, Obi-Wan allowed his memory to fill in the empty space with Master Qui-Gon's gentle instruction and never-ending words of wisdom.  
  
The fabrication was slightly reassuring, though not totally, but even a tiny shaft of hope was better than none, and he knew he could not endure without it. He knew it remained all in his mind, but it somehow relieved some of the stress and helplessness threatening to subjugate him.  
  
Above him were the soft, emerald plumes of a thousand palmy-leafed trees, swaying gently in the cool morning breeze. There had been no morning rain as there had been their first day here, but - nevertheless - the landscape lay moist from the deluge of the night before. Luckily, the two travelers had escaped the vicious atmospheric attack by safely hiding away, courteously sheltered from the crashing rainstorm by an unimaginably large, hollowed-out tree.  
  
A mysterious fog dwelt among the underbrush, diminishing visibility and compelling the exhausted trekkers to make slow progress through the steamy, rain-soaked forest. Only the periodic squishing of boots and huffing breaths of the two men, and the occasional euphony of birds, broke the silence.  
  
With his dwindling energy and the excruciating pain of his ankle, the padawan - whose limping had increased - was relieved that Tennosa seemed satisfied with their walking pace, although the elder man had offered no assistance to his suffering ankle. He bit back the now nearly unbearable pains and focused on remaining vertical. Still, there lingered no doubt in Obi-Wan's mind that he could not trust Tennosa. The man had kidnapped him and intentionally murdered another. No doubt when he proved to be more of a burden than an asset, then he, too, would be killed.  
  
Abruptly, the ground gave way to a swampy lake. How far the morass stretched, however, the padawan could only guess, for the dense fog swirled and teased, offering only fleeting glimpses of the cloudy marsh.  
  
Obi-Wan stopped just shy of it, uncertain whether Tennosa desired to cross it or not.   
  
"Sith," Tennosa's weary voice called out from behind the padawan. "We turned to the west too soon. We'll have to go further up the swamp to cross," he stated as he glanced at the murky water.  
  
"Why can't we cross here?" asked Obi-Wan, as he tiredly watched the older man. It wasn't that he wanted to cross the swamp at all, but he was simply curious.  
  
Tennosa walked to the edge of the water, stopping beside the padawan. Then he squinted his eyes and pointed. "See that?"  
  
Following the man's direction, searching through the softly billowing fog, Obi-Wan looked out at the swamp, catching the increasing movement cresting the water surface.  
  
"Those slithering things are not very friendly." Tennosa looked back at the padawan, who was still warily eyeing the mess of serpentine creatures writhing together. "And they can leave you with a very... unpleasant experience." Tennosa grabbed Obi-Wan's arm and pulled the limping padawan after him.  
  
By the time the dazzling sun sat at the edge of the horizon, they had fortunately found the thick grove of Issian bamboo stalks that Tennosa had been diligently searching for. But also by this time, Obi-Wan could barely stay on his feet and could not have done so without Tennosa helping him, directing him through the forest.   
  
The unbearable pain from his ankle and the spinning vertigo threw him off balance at every turn. The padawan had earlier surrendered to the groans and whimpers that he had tried so hard in vain to prevent as he was mercilessly driven on, and now with the appearance of the bamboo, he nearly broke down and cried from relief.  
  
Rounding the bamboo grove, they arrived where the sky visibly loomed overhead, no longer hidden by splaying tree limbs or the covering of leaves. Through the natural aperture, the heavens - alight with a ravishing golden sunset - peaked through the fading fog, bringing another day of lassitude to rest for the two travelers.  
  
Dropping his gaze to the sight before him, Obi-Wan stifled a gasp. The stone ruins stood crumbling - yet oddly strong in appearance - and defiant, as if refusing to scatter to dust, refusing the wear of natural deterioration. It is the way of all things, but this place tried to deny it.  
  
In the center was the tallest structure. It rose unabashedly seven stories still intact, seven sets of window openings that offered brief glimpses at the lifelessness within. Wide at the bottom, the tower tapered to a fine point at its top, directing one's gaze to continue upward to the magnificence of the skies.  
  
Surrounding the tower was an array of smaller dwellings. Every structure here indicated highly developed craftsmanship, artisanship, and a keen knowledge of the eventual fate of mercy to the elements. The smooth, alabaster stones used for construction seemingly drew the secluded ruins from the surrounding vegetation, highlighting its presence in the verdant loveliness protectively encircling it.  
  
Just to the edge of the clearing, a stone bridge stretched across the swamp, touching ground far on the other side. This was where Tennosa planned to cross the swamp.  
  
As Tennosa half-dragged the padawan towards the tower, Obi-Wan tripped over the scattered rocks and stone chips of all sizes that littered the ground.   
  
When they entered the tower's wide doorway, the padawan noticed various-sized pieces of broken pottery lining the sable-tiled floor near the walls. They walked down a long hallway and into a vaulted chamber. Its ceiling rose far up. This had to be the middle of the tower, Obi-Wan surmised.   
  
Tennosa roughly pushed the padawan to the floor and continued on toward what appeared to be an altar in the center of the room. The stone slab was highly polished and carved with intricate detail.  
  
Obi-Wan observed the dust-caked floor around him. He was not at all surprised to see it there, but the other thing he saw started his heart pounding. With eyes suddenly bright, he quickly glanced back at Tennosa, who stood with his back to the padawan, studying the carved altar. Quickly, the padawan scooted about three feet, towards one wall, and clamped his hand down on something, grasping and concealing it with his hand. Then he shifted back to where his captor had left him.  
  
"I like this place," Tennosa said, returning to Obi-Wan's side. "I come here to meditate sometimes."  
  
"You meditate?" Obi-Wan inquired, trying to keep his mind from the object concealed in his hand. "Where did you learn that?"  
  
"Yes, I do. And I learned from... a man." said Tennosa, with a twisted smile. "We'll stay here until daybreak. It'll be safe from the wildlife." He hesitated as he sat his satchel on the floor. "My mansion's close to here," he continued after he straightened up. "We'll be there tomorrow." Tennosa eyed the padawan distrustfully.  
  
Obi-Wan met his gaze, refusing to let this man take away his last shred of hope.   
  
Recognizing the defiance radiating steadily from the padawan's - now - brilliant turquoise eyes, Tennosa pulled out his blaster and dropped to one knee beside the prisoner.  
  
"You don't want to be foolish, Padawan." Tennosa pointed the weapon at Obi-Wan. The elder man's dark eyes sent a hateful stare, menace inhabited his voice. "Even if you could escape, that forest out there is even more dangerous than I am."  
  
Unflinching, Obi-Wan replied smoothly, "perhaps." The calm delivery and cryptic answer surprised even him, though he refused to show it.  
  
Tennosa's eyes narrowed. He wondered vainly what his young captive might be thinking, but the padawan's thoughts easily slipped through the tendrils of Force-energy Tennosa used to try to capture them with. "I think it would be smart for you to change your attitude," he coolly warned.   
  
The padawan - in all appearances, save his eyes - was physically weakened and near collapsing from fatigue, but there was something in his demeanor that Tennosa could not - did not want to - positively identify as calm assurance and eternal hope, and the young man's sparkling eyes were alight with what could only be construed as glee.  
  
At the sight of that shining hope radiating from Obi-Wan, Tennosa almost lost his hold on the moment. He was very tired himself, but relied on the Force to give him much needed strength.   
  
Reigning in the scintilla of doubt and replacing his blaster in its holster on his hip, he let go of the building rage inside of him and grabbed the padawan's shoulders, roughly jerking him to his feet. Then he slammed his captive against the wall behind him. A light sprinkling of dust fell from the ceiling over their heads, flitting quietly to the floor around them.  
  
Obi-Wan fought to clear his blurring vision from the jarring impact to his head. Squinting, he tried to focus on the dark circles fuzzing in and out before him. Tennosa's eyes stared angrily at him, as the dark swirling energy sizzled around them. Too exhausted to struggle and fearing the coming loss of consciousness, Obi-Wan leaned into Tennosa's hold as the room tilted far to one side, and he intently concentrated on keeping the object in his hand - and keeping it hidden.   
  
"You don't know want to make me angry at you, Padawan," the man's voice severely warned.  
  
Tennosa watched the confusion spread across Obi-Wan's face. The once-bright eyes were now clouded and unfocused, and the padawan would have slipped to the tile floor if not for being held up by him. He tightened his hold as Obi-Wan's head lolled forward and his body went limp.  
  
  
TBC 


	4. Freedom?

TITLE: MILES TO GO  
AUTHOR: Cascadia  
TIME: 6 years pre-TPM, Obi-Wan is 19  
RATING: PG or PG-13  
CATEGORY: Drama/Angst, Non-Slash  
SUMMARY: Padawan Obi-Wan is kidnapped by a Force-sensitive. Can he overcome without the Force? Without Qui-Gon?  
ARCHIVE: Please ask first. Sites who have previously archived any of my stories may archive any of them that they want to without asking. See bio for archived sites.  
DISCLAIMER: All recognizable characters are the property of Lucasfilm Limited. All the rest belong to me. I receive absolutely no profit from this.  
  
  
  
  
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CHAPTER 4 - FREEDOM?  
  
  
  
Fire mixed with ice in a mind-jolting onslaught of pain. The crash of a throbbing ache originating at the back of his head, burning and spread like a blanket - a cover of flame - encompassed his entire skull, while the ice-chilled floor beneath him sent its frozen fingers up, stroking his skin, held ever damp by clothes drenched from the numerous mists of rain the padawan had been subject to. The insensitive war of hot and cold cruelly lashed into his dawning awareness.   
  
Suppressing a mild shiver, he slowly rocked his head to the side, wincing from the uncomfortable effect of the hard surface he lay upon, and opened his eyes - with an immediate regret of the pain that small action had caused. He weakly moaned and closed his eyes again, becoming aware of other aches and a general soreness throughout his entire body, and, finally, of a surging wave of nausea forecasting its evil intention to hold him at its mercy.   
  
A confounding spray of questions imbued his mind in a precipitant blur. Where was he? Why did he hurt so much, feel so sick? Why were his clothes wet, and where was Master Qui-Gon?  
  
As the confusion of twisting vapor swirled and drifted through his mind, it slowly dissipated to a faint spindrift - until it ebbed away, leaving visions of his distressing predicament growing increasingly clearer.  
  
The murder. The kidnapping. His captor. The shipwreck. The rainforest. The thing in his hand.... It all came rushing back in flagrant, vivid detail - detail that he would prefer to forget.  
  
In an uncertain moment of shock, as the harrowing memories of the last few days returned, the padawan hesitantly accepted them for what they were and tried to focus on how to help himself. It remained true that he felt lost without the Force, but even in the most trying of circumstances was a Jedi expected to behave as such, and he would do his best to live up to that expectancy.  
  
He turned his thoughts back to the object he had found shortly before his loss of consciousness. Was IT still there?   
  
Lying still, he carefully peered through his eyelashes. The chamber he was in was mostly dark, but a faint glow emanated to the side, crawling up the alabaster walls and disappearing into the near-blackness overhead. Following the light to its source, Obi-Wan ignored the pain and turned his head to find Tennosa sitting cross-legged a few feet away from him. He appeared to be entranced by something in his lap.  
  
Slowly, the padawan looked back to his hand - where he hoped IT still was.  
  
He gently opened his hand, seeing the small stone blade - still secretly concealed and still relatively sharp, despite however many years of lying lost within the tower. Feeling a small pain accompanying his hand's movement, he took notice of the smear of what seemed to be nearly dried blood across the blade. He traced the cut to his palm, evidently sliced from grasping the blade too tightly, just prior to passing out.  
  
He released a relieved sigh, averse to admit that the hope he had placed in that one small blade could very well be exaggerated, but, right now, it was all he had.  
  
But was it enough? Was it an empty hope? A flight dream?  
  
These questions he preferred not to answer.  
  
"You're awake," came the cold, cruel voice of the man that had made the last few days of his life miserable.  
  
Obi-Wan inwardly cringed at the sound of that man's voice and slowly closed his hand back around the blade, avoiding any quick movements that could draw attention to his bound hands.  
  
Tennosa shifted to kneel beside his captive still lying upon the freezing stone floor. The padawan's eyes were open, but his gaze remained transfixed on the dark ceiling.   
  
"I'm talking to you, Padawan," said Tennosa with malice. In a ruthless gesture to gain the padawan's attention he banged his fist on Obi-Wan's boot where his wounded ankle was.  
  
The padawan yelped involuntarily, flinching from the unexpected attack, and started to roll on his side away from his tormentor, but was stopped as Tennosa jerked him back and pinned his shoulders to the floor in a bruising hold.  
  
"Look at me," Tennosa growled. "Look at me," he repeated, incensed by Obi-Wan's stubborn disobedience. He tightened his painful grip on Obi-Wan's shoulders, satisfactorily seeing the padawan's attempt to cover the increase in pain with a set jaw.   
  
Realizing that continued rebellion might not only earn him more punishment by Tennosa's Force-enhanced strength, but also risk his chances of escaping sooner, Obi-Wan redirected his eyes to the face of the man now hovering over him. The man's face lay vaguely shadowed, but the hateful stare could not be dispelled by the darkness and almost made the padawan think twice about attempting any escape - or even thinking escape was possible. He tried to push the trembling doubt away and remember that Master Qui-Gon would not accept him surrendering so easily - and he would not allow himself to be so weak.  
  
Tennosa stared down at his captive, gazing so innocently up at him. The glow rod sent a soft glow across the padawan's face, illuminating the blue effulgence of his eyes. He could read a trace of fear and near-hopelessness from his captive, but also a quivering determination to not give up.   
  
The prolonged, wordless stare sent an apprehensive shudder up Obi-Wan's spine, assuredly alerting Tennosa of its presence. Fighting to keep some control, Obi-Wan unconsciously bit his lower lip to stem the growing unease, but without the aid of the Force, he found maintaining a semblance of peace in such an uncomfortable situation extremely difficult.  
  
"Why do Jedi dread fear so much?" demanded Tennosa.  
  
Obi-Wan stared up at him, knowing that behind all the cruelty and mistreatment lay an insatiable mind, eager to soak up anything he could tell him - which begged the question of why? Why was his captor so adamant to learn about the Force? What had sparked his interest so - or, rather, WHO had? How could a man become so obsessed with possessing knowledge?  
  
"I asked you a question." Tennosa's hands on the padawan's shoulders pinched painfully, while his voice grew deathly malevolent.  
  
Sucking in a deep breath to achieve a small measure of calm, Obi-Wan quietly answered, "fear leads to anger."  
  
"But anger makes you powerful," replied Tennosa. A touch of base satisfaction flashed across his features, and he relaxed his grip on Obi-Wan.  
  
Obi-Wan sadly looked away. He should not be upset with this man. He was evidently wading in perilous seas - lost, confused, desiring the easy, selfish way. The Force was not subservient to an individual's self-indulgent bidding, or at least, it should not be, the padawan mused. To take the powers of the Force at face value and not attribute any kind of regard for it's 'will' - it's loving guidance towards fulfilling the eventual fate of the universe - was a near-blasphemy. It was this type of disrespect that the padawan found difficult to understand - especially from one who could sense its presence.  
  
"Why does that bother you, Padawan?" the elder man implored in genuine interest.  
  
Obi-Wan met the man's eyes again, noting the iniquitous fascination there. "It leads to the Dark Side," he replied quietly.   
  
"And why is that wrong?" The blind sincerity of Tennosa's eyes gleamed.  
  
"The Dark Side is evil," Obi-Wan answered. "Corruption and hatred are its ways - not love unconditional and disregard for self."  
  
"Spoken like a true Jedi puppet," Tennosa smiled, but it was anything but friendly. The nefarious glare in his eyes held steady. "Maybe it's a good thing that the Jedi wouldn't take me, or I'd be as much of a mindless dandiprat as you are. I suppose I'm better off having not endured that kind of brainwashing."   
  
"Who is it that you hate so much?" Obi-Wan interrupted bluntly, and Tennosa was clearly taken aback - though, he tried not to show it - by the brashness of his captive's inquiry.  
  
Tennosa's eyes narrowed, and Obi-Wan saw that he'd struck a chord in the man's heart.  
  
"It's apparent that something happened to you," the padawan went on saucily, finding a weakness unseen before. "And you clearly did not like it." The impetuous nature of Obi-Wan's argument fanned the brooding storm in Tennosa's eyes. "Was being discovered too late such a disappointment to you? Is that why there's so much hate in you? Do you wish you were a Jedi so badly that it drives you to murder?"  
  
"Enough," Tennosa yelled.  
  
"And how do you know who I am?" Obi-Wan rashly demanded.   
  
"I said that's enough," Tennosa repeated harshly, his shifting emotions at war.  
  
"You expect me to answer all of your questions, but you won't answer mine." Obi-Wan knew he was pushing his captor, but he simply refused to let him intimidate him further. Although, in the very back of his mind, he heard a warning beckon telling him to stave off the attack. An escape attempt may not come again so easily. It would be foolish to throw it away now.  
  
Meanwhile, Tennosa had tightened his grip on the padawan's shoulders once again, this time, much more painful than before, and - if Obi-Wan could read a man's face at all - he knew that Tennosa was nearing a burning rage.   
  
Obi-Wan closed his mouth, stopping himself from saying anything more, and dropped the defiant glare that he had so unknowingly adopted, replacing it with a more placative expression and allowing his eyes to show the slightly quivering resolve that he felt deep inside.  
  
Tennosa held his vehement temper at bay, preferring not to display any inclemency at the moment. He would not let this padawan control his behavior. No, he would not let anyone control him.  
  
Abruptly, his tense posture relaxed, and he remarked coolly, "that's the way it goes, Padawan. Your life is at my mercy, and you will do as I say. Oh, and I'm so sorry you missed evening meal... again," he mocked. "It's too bad you were... out," added Tennosa, trying to keep straight a malicious smile that threatened to form.  
  
Brusquely, he seized Obi-Wan, pulling him to his feet, and shoved him over to the stone altar in the middle of the room.   
  
Obi-Wan decided to not struggle - not that he could have much, as weak as he felt - but to wait for the right moment for escape. As he clasped his hand tightly around the hidden blade, he felt the sharp edge sink into his flesh, and subsequently grit his teeth in an attempt to keep his sanity intact.  
  
Tennosa pushed Obi-Wan upon the stone slab, forcing him to lie down. Then he pulled the leather-bound hands of his captive above his head and used a rope to bind them to an upraised loop at one end of the slab. Walking to the other end, he used a second rope to tie his captive's feet to the loop at the opposite end.  
  
Tennosa chuckled, stepping back to admire his handy-work, and murmured, "all prepared for sacrifice."   
  
The twisted levity did little to calm the padawan, and, fortunately - much to Obi-Wan's relief - Tennosa was only joking. The man turned and sauntered over to the wall.  
  
The padawan discreetly watched Tennosa settle down on the floor and waited until he were still for a few minutes. Taking a few slow, deep breaths to gain a sense of serenity - no matter how small a fraction he could muster - Obi-Wan laid still on the altar to make sure Tennosa was asleep.  
  
Obi-Wan was sure that Tennosa would in some way tie him up overnight - since he had every night they had been on this planet. Evidently, Tennosa had no grasp of Force-inducing sleep, which was a good thing in this case - for his plan depended on it.  
  
If his scheme didn't work, then the padawan felt sure another chance would - in all likelihood - never come, or in the least, not come soon enough.  
  
Now that he had a blessed chance to make a clean escape, he silently thanked the Force for the token of fortune it had patently thrown to him out of mercy or destiny, or for whatever reason. But he knew that true freedom lay inflexibly distant, and - if finding a way back to Coruscant were even possible on this strange, little beautiful planet - there would need be many more blessings beyond this present darkness to wake again in a world of certainty and security.  
  
Don't get your hopes up yet, Obi-Wan reminded himself.   
  
After waiting what he assumed should be sufficient time for his captor to be asleep, Obi-Wan bent his head back, peering at his wrists secured to the altar. Twisting and stretching to reach the rope as well as he could, he carefully placed the blade against the rope and began sawing across its strong fibers, periodically stopping to peek at Tennosa and rest his fingers.  
  
It was a long, monotonous process, but the longer he worked, the more relief sprouted in his thoughts. Thoughts of Coruscant and the Temple, Qui-Gon, all the other Jedi, sent waves of contentment through him.   
  
He continued working feverishly until the sudden popping of the rope drew a light sigh of satisfaction from him. That much closer to freedom, he paused for a moment, breathing in deeply, to bask in the first victory.   
  
Now with his hands free of the altar, he set to work on cutting the leather cord around his wrists by placing the blade tightly between his teeth. It was so tight and had been there so long, that it was extremely difficult to keep the blade held tight enough to effectively saw across the cord.   
  
A few accidental cuts later, the thick leather split, and Obi-Wan slowly unwrapped it, bearing the pain it caused to his bruised and slightly bloodied slender wrists.  
  
After a quick glance again at Tennosa, the padawan was frantically wrestling with the rope restraining his feet to the altar, his tired fingers fumbling in frustration. The older man stirred gently in his sleep, but gave no sign of waking, but even so, Obi-Wan hurried to complete his task.  
  
When the rope dropped to the floor, with just the slightest of sounds, Obi-Wan slid his legs over the edge of the altar and carefully tested his weight on his ankle. He felt surprised that it now appeared to be a steady, dull ache, but perhaps he had just gotten used to its constant pain.  
  
Then he limped toward Tennosa with his heart violently beating. The pale light from the single glow rod painted the man's features in dark shadows, his face a mask of peace in slumber. With a trembling hand, the padawan reached for the satchel at the elder man's feet.   
  
Just as his hand wrapped around the handle, something smashed into his side, and he fell sprawling back on the cold stone floor with his ribs screaming in pain.   
  
Tennosa sprang to his feet and leaped towards the padawan.   
  
Obi-Wan rolled away and stood, swinging the satchel still in his hand at the older man. It struck Tennosa across the back of his head, knocking him to his knees.  
  
Taking advantage of the moment of confusion, the padawan raced towards the hallway, ignoring the shooting pains from his ankle. He emerged from the tower structure into the moonlit clearing. Surreal shades lay spread across the ruins, dark and sinister. The soft moonlight latched on to the stone forms, bathing them in deep blue pools of light, while the sultry air pushed away the coolness, as now a humid night settled in.   
  
He could hear the panting breaths of Tennosa behind him, but there was no time to worry about that. Quickly, he darted towards the dilapidated stone dwellings, as fast as his limp would carry him over the rock-strewn ground.  
  
Ducking inside a small chamber, he slid to the floor, then jumped up to peer out one small crumbled window. He saw Tennosa cautiously walking amidst the clearing with the blaster held in hand, glancing all around, no doubt searching for him.  
  
Sinking to his knees, the padawan continued watching warily as Tennosa came nearer.  
  
Oh please, go away, he silently pleaded.   
  
Praying the wild fluttering of his pounding heart would stop, the padawan tried to still his shallow panting for fear of being heard. A sudden gush of nausea washed over him, and he nervously swallowed the bile blossoming at the back of his throat. He suddenly realized how terrible he felt. The sick stomach, the dizziness, exhaustion - repercussions of the last several days. Fatigue from the relentless traveling and the lack of sufficient food - combined with the Force-suppressant's ill effects - had apparently taken their toll on him.   
  
"I can sense you near, Padawan," said Tennosa.  
  
No, please, please, Obi-Wan pleaded again.  
  
Tennosa stopped, turning in a circle.  
  
Obi-Wan opened the satchel and began searching for anything useful, while he simultaneously watched Tennosa through the window.  
  
"Padawan. You won't last long out here. This forest is dangerous." Tennosa's voice was emotionless. "There's no way you could make it alive. Be sensible and surrender."   
  
Nothing. There was nothing he could use against Tennosa in the satchel.  
  
I should have run into the forest, the padawan thought desperately.   
  
Now he was trapped in this small dwelling, with a violent, unpredictable man intending him harm outside.  
  
"Think, Padawan," he said. "Give up, and I won't hurt you. You wanted to know how I know you. I'll tell you." He whirled around now facing the direction where Obi-Wan hid. "I saw you years ago with your master. You've changed so much, but I knew you must be the same child." Tennosa paused, walking closer.   
  
Obi-Wan ducked further to the side of the window, attempting to stay hidden from Tennosa's sight. The nervous pounding of his heart increased the closer the man came.  
  
"My name is Merrik Tennosa. Jinn never told you about me, did he?" Tennosa guessed. "But maybe he wouldn't want you to know."  
  
Obi-Wan remained quiet. He knew he could not believe anything Tennosa said, but nevertheless, he wondered how this man knew Qui-Gon.  
  
"Qui-Gon Jinn is not the perfect little Jedi, you know," Tennosa continued, his voice became passionate. "He doesn't bow to the Council and lick their boots. I met him years ago, and he didn't mind teaching me a few things. Why does it bother you?" he paused for effect. "Perhaps it's the will of the Force to cooperate with me. The Force didn't stop Jinn. Are you going to disobey the Force now that your master isn't here with you? Just what do you think Qui-Gon would think of you for doing that?"  
  
Closing his eyes, the padawan tried to push away the conflicting emotions of disappointing Qui-Gon. His master would not freely give out instruction, would he? No, the Temple kept Force knowledge safely locked away from those who would want to use it wrongly - those like Tennosa.  
  
Tennosa stopped in front of the dwelling where Obi-Wan was. "Come out and I won't hurt you." His voice was lower this time, as he stared at the window.  
  
No, no, Obi-Wan begged in silence.  
  
No, he would not give in. He gathered his remaining courage, set his determination to escape, and crept to the side of the open doorway.  
  
Tennosa stepped closer to the door with the blaster readied. "I know where you are, Padawan." He took a tentative step towards the door, waiting, listening.  
  
As Tennosa stepped again closer, Obi-Wan threw the satchel in the man's face, and - seeing him fall backward to the ground - jumped over him, dashing toward the cover of vegetation. He knew running was his only chance since he felt much too tired to fight.  
  
He fled as quickly as he could, nearly tripping over the rocky ground, and as he broke into the dense vegetation, he didn't slow, never looked back for fear of seeing Tennosa there following.  
  
He ran on, sweeping past leaves, slapped and scratched by limbs, and staggered from the toll his exhaustion was taking on his body.  
  
Dark silhouettes flew by, long and curved, thick or delicate. The choking humidity seemed to steal his breath, but he drove himself on, without thought of where he was heading. But it didn't really matter right now. All he saw was getting away from that man who had kidnapped him and brought him here. All his thoughts were funneled into one basic instinct to be free.  
  
Finally - after a time that seemed to be entirely too short - his legs gave out, and he fell to his hands and knees, panting heavily.  
  
"Please, Force," he whispered between labored breaths. "Please."  
  
A soft rainmist began to fall around him, and the sultry air turned cool - a blanket of ice seemed to descend upon the landscape.  
  
Obi-Wan opened his eyes to survey where he was, but the darkness of the deep forest blocked out almost all light. He rubbed his face with his hands, and pushed himself to his feet.   
  
Where would he go now? What would he do? He knew not where he was and knew very little about this place, and he had left Tennosa's satchel back at the ruins, so he had no food.   
  
Slowly, the padawan limped to a tree, resting his hand on the truck for balance. Now that he had stopped running, the pain from his ankle flared up with sharp pains.  
  
A soft sound drew his attention, a hushed shifting of blades of grass. Casting his gaze to find what had caused it in the near-blackness, he spied - something - moving through the moist grass, headed directly towards him.   
  
Obi-Wan backed away - slowly at first - but it kept coming, quickening its pace, relentless in pursuit. Turning away to run, the padawan tripped over a log or something in his path and fell. Then, the 'log' moved, coiling back towards his pursuer in a sinuous glide.  
  
Just as Obi-Wan sat up and faced whatever it was, the ophidian head of the creature elegantly rose, hovering towards the fallen padawan, its serpentine body sliding gently closer. With a soft hiss, it moved within arm's length, in a subtle threat. Obi-Wan stopped inching away and froze.   
  
  
TBC 


	5. Fading Hopes

Wow! It's only been two days. This part was so much easier to write than the last, and almost came in a flash. I hope you enjoy, but don't get too spoiled. ;)  
  
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TITLE: MILES TO GO  
AUTHOR: Cascadia  
TIME: 6 years pre-TPM, Obi-Wan is 19  
RATING: PG or PG-13  
CATEGORY: Drama/Angst, Non-Slash  
SUMMARY: Padawan Obi-Wan is kidnapped by a Force-sensitive. Can he overcome without the Force? Without Qui-Gon?  
ARCHIVE: Please ask first. Sites who have previously archived any of my stories may archive any of them that they want to without asking. See bio for archived sites.  
DISCLAIMER: All recognizable characters are the property of Lucasfilm Limited. All the rest belong to me. I receive absolutely no profit from this.  
  
  
  
  
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CHAPTER 5 - FADING HOPES  
  
  
  
As if staring through darkened glass would bring to light all the unknown, safely guarded, stored knowledge of the eons of the ages, and bring some imaginary order to the chaos of things, Qui-Gon Jinn stared out the front viewscreen of the shuttlecraft he had borrowed, searching for the tiniest of hints of where to look for his missing padawan.  
  
There was nothing to go on - no subtle Force vibrations, no beaming signal, nothing with the barest, minimal clue as to what direction to fly in, or what planet to go to. In essence, he was wandering the galaxy, flying here and there with no cause for direction. He was drifting... alone. There was no one else to accompany him. There was no cause for anyone else to come.  
  
If there was any reason - though one should not call it reason - for the direction he took, it remained purposely cloaked, masked behind his armored heart, fearful of being seen and revealed as a tragic hoax, and the haggard man behind the craft's controls would never dare let that occur.  
  
When the time came for him to acknowledge that all of this had been a waste of time - if it ever came to that, and he prayed that it never would - then, and only then, would he return to the Jedi Temple. And if that time ever came, then he would not only return without his padawan, but also without his heart.  
  
Where was the Force on all of this? Qui-Gon had wondered in agitation. Where was its sublime, magnificent hand in this? Did it not care that one specific - very important, very loved padawan - was missing?  
  
His midnight blue gaze intensely glared at the prismatic dust shining like polished crystals on a beach of ivory sand under the burning Catarman sun. The beautiful display of the Plianatudes gleamed purest crimson, dazzling lime and gold - luminous and unyielding in a corner of the heavens claimed all its own.  
  
Yet even in all its surpassing transplendence, even this eye-catching nebula grew strangely dim in the light of the wonderful, bright presence of the one, young soul who had captured the heart of the Jedi master as sure as a tropical ocean captures the light of the rising morning sun.   
  
Tearing his eyes away, the Jedi master fought the swell of tears rising from his eyes of sorrow. The Plianatudes was a source for endless staring and contemplation by a certain Jedi padawan. That agonizing thought - and a dreadful million others - served to drag Qui-Gon's misery out in the open, to expose his vulnerability to the heavens and the stars who could all care less.  
  
With a simple remembrance of a system nearby, the Jedi master hesitantly entered the coordinates in the navi-computer and prepared to enter hyperspace again. He would follow his instincts. He would pray that the Force would guide him... wherever he needed to go.  
  
  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
If there was a word - or even a simple phrase - for how it feels to suddenly realize you might end up the midnight snack of a very large, very long, and very intimidating looking creature, then that - by all explanations in the celestial cosmos - was exactly how Obi-Wan felt.   
  
When he had first laid eyes on the serpentine creature before him, all rational thought had melted away like an ice sheet on Tatooine, leaving only a very small inkling of escape floating at the edge of his cognizance. But, oh, how he yearned to be away - far away; and as his lucidity returned, in all its fascinating and frustrating glory, the creature was still there, and he was still the answer to the hungry reflection in its eyes.   
  
With a strange detachment from himself that the padawan found slightly disturbing, he suddenly wandered how he would taste to such a predatory creature, but that notion would never be explored if he had any say at all in the matter.  
  
It moved slowly, hypnotically, in a charming manner with graceful curves, dancing in an impressive show of exotic mystery, mesmerizing in a form of seduction, its eyes gold and glowing softly in the darkness. Edging closer and closer, gliding, sliding, slithering it moved.  
  
Suddenly, he realized - and perhaps too late - that the creature had already slinked the end of its tail behind him, intent on capturing the object of its desire. He glanced frantically all around him, alarmingly searching for a way to escape as its length wrapped loosely around his waist, and a soft gasp escaped the padawan as its muscular, round body tightened in a quick spasm to a snug, form-fitting hold.  
  
"No," Obi-Wan weakly protested, pushing against the thick, scaly mass encompassing his waist, but it was all in vain. The predator had trapped its prey.  
  
A gentle hiss fell from the creature as a sigh of satisfaction at the rapidly advancing culmination of the hunt, followed by a sudden and unexpected spray of venom misted upon the padawan.   
  
At that exact moment, he felt like a rain of fire had been thrown upon him, burning and terribly painful. He cried out from the unexpected attack, covering his face with his arms for protection from the acidic spray.  
  
The pulse of his heart raced, and he vaguely wondered if this would be his last living moment, never to see Master Qui-Gon or anyone else again, no time to say goodbye to any of them, nothing else beyond the horror of this final defeat.  
  
When a second volley of acid came shortly thereafter, he could not help but cry out in terror again, and the dawning acceptance of his eventual fate spread like a hopeless shroud around him.  
  
The serpent's body constricted painfully around his abdomen, but it was not entirely cruel, just enough to push some of the air from his lungs, and he gasped for the breath he tearfully knew was being permanently denied.  
  
He had made a mistake, he knew. He had been forewarned of the dangers of the rain forest at night, and had foolishly chosen to ignore it, and now he would dearly pay with his life. For one long second the padawan wished he had not escaped Tennosa. For one long second....  
  
A futile thought it was, and as his head grew light and the air would not come, he had one last regret to his Jedi master: that the elder man would never know what had happened to him, and that one painful truth would leave his master broken... horribly broken.  
  
Now the Jedi master would have two failed apprentices - one left willingly, the other was taken forcibly, but in the end it would not matter whether he had left or was taken. For Qui-Gon Jinn had never put Xanatos behind him. Now the man would suffer two defeats, two heartaches, two sons taken from him with nothing left but the memories of those two to dry his tears.  
  
Obi-Wan's eyelids fluttered closed as his fight for breath came to a halt, and he collapsed there in the grasp of that creature. The sounds, the regret, the touch of consciousness, flowed slowly away, and as he gladly gave in to the grim call of lasting sleep, he barely registered the sound of a low, menacing growl.  
  
Distantly, he could feel himself dumped to the wet ground, and if he could have reasoned anything at all in his resigned state of mind, then he would have wondered why he could suddenly breath again, and why fierce hisses met barks of anger.  
  
There was a flurry of thoughts, frantic and probing, that bled through his clouded mind, so that when he realized his life had not been taken, but spared - at least in a temporal sense - the question charging to the forefront was 'why?'.  
  
He was confused, of course, so he cracked his eyes to slits, and his gaze immediately latched onto the quick movement of two dark silhouettes - one serpentine, the other canine - in a combative, tangled dance. Together, then apart, then together again each creature advanced upon the other.  
  
In all reluctance, the padawan admitted that they were fighting over him - the next item on the menu for both creatures - and he knew in all certainty that he should get away as soon as he could, while they were engaged in their predatory quarrel.  
  
As quickly as he could, he pushed himself to his knees, breathing deeply to fill his lungs again and to relieve the lightness of his head from the deprivation of oxygen. The sudden intake of air burned deep in his lungs, but the torturous sensation soon dissipated, and with a strength that he did not think he had left, he rose to his feet and limped away.   
  
The sounds of combat faded gradually in the background as the padawan ventured further into the deep forest, his weary body trembling and near collapsing like a lost and abandoned Drangmul pup wandering aimlessly about.  
  
He walked and limped, pushing all of his distressing thoughts to that carefully constructed compartment deep within, deeply buried from all conscious thought, where only his unwanted emotions and fears lay safely tucked away, unable to harm him any longer. He would deal with them later... when he had more time, when he had the strength.  
  
Then he arrived at what he assumed to be - by all reason - the outlet for a subterranean stream. The padawan dropped rather abruptly to his knees and thrust both of his hands into the pure, pellucid waters of the small, round pool surrounded on three sides by a natural wall of rocks.  
  
There was a small opening in the canopy of trees above to allow a glimpse of the night skies. The only visible moon danced upon the sheen of the pool, now rippled by Obi-Wan's agitation of its surface.   
  
He drank greedily of the water, satisfying all his lust of the liquid before splashing it across his face, and with all care thrown to the wind, he curled up next to the pool and fell into a dreamless sleep.  
  
  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
Morning came as the breath of an angel - pure, sincere, and unimaginably lovely. Of all the mysteries of creation, the one following life as most overwhelming had to be the beauty of a world in waking. In all its display of innocent delight in simply going through the motions from dawn until dusk - the habitual unfolding of the petals of a flower, the ethereal spray of a shaft of light through trees, the sweet fragrances of nectar and wood - all these and more came as a loving miracle pointing to the one great enigma overlooking all else and directing the course of all beings.  
  
As the bright luminescence peered down upon the sleeping figure beside the pool, the young man stirred gently, turning upon his back, his features painted painfully youthful in rest. The heavenly light caressed him like a child borne of the light, its ever-watchful eye intensely ubiquitous.  
  
Languidly, he opened his eyes and stared at the glowing heavens - plum and rose and brilliant splatters of silver - all there just as it was on his first day here. Slowly, his gaze trailed down to the verdant vegetation and the garden of dew-splashed blossoms, all bright and cheery.  
  
He rolled over onto his side and pushed himself to a sitting position, and if he had ever felt weariness before, it had never registered the degree to which he felt it now. His exhaustion remained heavy despite the rest overnight.  
  
He rested his head in his hands, trying to come to grips with the unfortunate situation he was in now. Yesterday had been very trying, but now he was alone and in a frightening place that he knew very little about. Yesterday he had packed his worries away, but today he had to face them.  
  
Astonished to discover that he had survived overnight, unmolested by any prowling, carnivorous creatures, the padawan looked to the clear waters of the pool. He leaned over the still waters, looking at his reflection on its mirrored surface.  
  
His turquoise eyes gleamed, but weariness and trouble were also there, dancing in vague shadows. Fortunately, there were no signs on his face or neck that he could see of the acid that the serpent had sprayed upon him. The short length of his mussed-up hair prevented it from looking too bad, but the padawan braid was matted and dirty.   
  
Knowing he was in need of a bath, he peeled off his tunics, carefully lying them aside, and pulled off his left boot - leaving the other one alone since his ankle would undoubtedly suffer greater pain if he were to take that boot off. Then he lowered himself into the pool, allowing himself time to adjust to the icy cold temperature, and ducked completely under its surface.  
  
Although the water was extremely cold to the touch, it felt so refreshing to be able to enjoy this luxury and was very rejuvenating to his stressed muscles. Even with all the frequent rain showers, they could not compare to a full immersion. By the mercy of the divine, he was in heaven.   
  
Sitting in the pool, Obi-Wan rebraided his padawan braid, and let himself relax as he had not been able to for days. He let his mind drift away, back to Coruscant, back to his real life, where he was a Jedi padawan. There, he felt secure, and the future did not wickedly laugh at his feeble attempts to behave as a Jedi. There, the flickering flame of the candle of hope did not burn out, nor did it - in any perverse sense - ever, to his knowledge, lead him to believe there was a way, when there was indeed not.  
  
There, in his mind, he saw Master Qui-Gon's confidence in him staring into his eyes - the pride of his padawan's accomplishments reflected in the older man's. If only he could reach his master now, tell him that he was fine, that he was not dead... yet, then the Jedi master would be even more proud of him, proud that he was doing his best to survive.   
  
Master Qui-Gon's birthday was today, the padawan begrudgingly remembered. What a wonderful present this would be - his padawan missing and with no idea where he is. Once again, he felt regret. Once again, he felt that he had, to some extent, let Qui-Gon down... again, and this time there may not be any reason to believe otherwise.  
  
It was not loud, but just a gentle, low whir, and, if the young Jedi lounging in the pool had been anymore lost in his thoughts as he was, then he would have completely missed it, but his senses were at the least alert enough to pick the sound out of the natural ambience of the rain forest. He turned his head, catching the whizzing flight of the small probe droid as it slowed in deviation, paused thoughtfully, beeped a message to whomever sent it out, and darted away.  
  
With any luck it would have been sent by someone who would help him, but he knew that would not be the case. He knew this droid had been sent by Tennosa. The man was not likely to let his captive go so easily. It would be only a tiny stretch of time before that man arrived at the scene.  
  
Sloshing out of the pool as quickly as he could, he stopped for a second to still the onslaught of drug-induced dizziness. After he had regained his sense of balance and felt sure he would not fall, Obi-Wan climbed into his tunics and boot, and scampered away, losing himself - hopefully - in the protective covering of trees.  
  
In the cool breath of morning, the padawan limped through the emerald leafed vegetation, bearing his weight on the stout trunks as he passed, each step spiking pains through his ankle.   
  
He swallowed the sickness clambering up his throat, as his stomach pitched in agony, but pushed himself on, hoping to somehow, someway, escape the far-reaching grasp of his former captor.  
  
With a sudden frightening and inhuman rudeness, a second probe droid buzzed directly in front of him, halting its course close enough to touch, and produced a series of beeps. Obi-Wan flinched in surprise at the sudden arrival of the droid, and, in a frustration that padawans should not vent, he lashed out to slap it.  
  
Faster than the padawan could move, the droid zoomed back, untouched, and hovered overhead, prudently watching him.  
  
If a look could inflict damage, then the droid would, by all means, fizzle out and drop to the ground, but the padawan glaring at the little droid could not - unfortunately - ever manage such an act. Not that he had not ever tried to, but the prospect of that ever happening still laid quiet, hibernating within the constructs of his mind.  
  
With fleeting thoughts of escape, he changed his direction again and hurried as well as he could through a thick clumping of vines. They stuck and scratched and hooked onto the figure recklessly pushing through them, and when he emerged on the other side of them, he fell to his knees and looked over the fresh cuts across his trembling hands.  
  
When another droid appeared, he tried to push himself up to stand, but bitterly realized that his body could only handle so much before it collapsed from pure exhaustion. Regretfully, he knew he had just about reached that point. He knew he had been foolish for wandering with no cause for direction, no well thought-out plans. Now, much to his dismay, he had reached the end of his struggles... and he knew he had.  
  
With a resignation that sent a shudder up his spine, he broke down and wept, blocking out everything around him, even the gentle mist of precipitation that had begun falling from the skies, washing the world in a haze of gray and melancholy.  
  
In his mind - tossed and tortured by flailing emotions - he thought of every mistake he had made, every childish, inept misjudgment, and wondered just how he had accomplished as much as he had in his life.   
  
Was it only error? Was it only error on his part to end up this way or had destiny set the stage, holding the only light on the path, guiding him to his prescribed eventual suffering?  
  
Held in the bleakness of despair, he made no endeavor to run when the sploshing of boots approached - nor did he struggle when his arms were wrenched behind his back and his wrists tightly bound together.   
  
And when Tennosa pulled the shivering padawan to his feet, he let exhaustion claim him. And why not?  
  
  
TBC 


	6. I'm Your Guest?

Writing this part was like piecing together a huge puzzle. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. Oh, and any resemblance to any other fics is purely coincidental. ;) And thanks for all the feedback.  
  
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TITLE: MILES TO GO  
AUTHOR: Cascadia  
TIME: 6 years pre-TPM, Obi-Wan is 19  
RATING: PG or PG-13  
CATEGORY: Drama/Angst, Non-Slash  
SUMMARY: Padawan Obi-Wan is kidnapped by a Force-sensitive. Can he overcome without the Force? Without Qui-Gon?  
ARCHIVE: Please ask first. Sites who have previously archived any of my stories may archive any of them that they want to without asking. See bio for archived sites.  
DISCLAIMER: All recognizable characters are the property of Lucasfilm Limited. All the rest belong to me. I receive absolutely no profit from this.  
  
  
  
  
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CHAPTER 6 - I'M YOUR GUEST?  
  
  
  
There was a splash of water and shivering coldness. Brightness flashed and dashed away, before returning again. A bed of fire and the soft caress of fabric, and a soothing balm wafted through his awareness, but at the very back of his mind, he vaguely sensed that all was not well, at least, not in the living world.  
  
With that thought, though obscured in a fog of mist it was, he felt the flames of sparking heat rise, baking, sweltering, and he wondered why he was so hot... so terribly hot.  
  
A cold touch fell lightly to his face, and he instinctively leaned into it, though not at all certain who or what, or even why it was there, but the simple action prompted response.  
  
"Padawan," a voice called. "Padawan," the emotionless voice came again.  
  
With a tiring effort, he opened his heavy-lidded eyes, but the world hung and twisted in a confusing maze of colors and moving shapes, so much so, that he had to close his eyes again to avoid a swell of nausea.  
  
The cool hand returned again, sliding lightly down his jaw line, stopping to cup his chin.  
  
"Padawan," the man said in slight urgency.  
  
He opened his eyes again, fighting to keep his eyelids from falling. As they fluttered, demanding to close again, he fought it harder this time, if just to see who was speaking to him.  
  
The dark eyes bore hard into him, striking a piercing stare, but Obi-Wan refused to look away, and the face - along with all of the unpleasant memory associated with it - came into disheartening focus.  
  
Closing his eyes, the padawan quietly answered in a tone of dismissal that he intended to sound rude, "go away."  
  
He laid still, wondering why Tennosa was not doing, nor saying, anything to him, and when he was sure he had gotten away with his impudent remark, he peeked through his eyelashes at the man idly sitting to his side.  
  
"You should thank me for rescuing you from that dreadful forest and bringing you safely here," Tennosa stated with an edge of malice. "Or would you prefer I toss you back out there?" He jerked his head toward a large window on the wall behind him that Obi-Wan had not noticed. As a matter of fact, he had not noticed, until now, that he was inside a room, dark though it was.  
  
With a show of confusion, the padawan scanned the room with his eyes, taking note of the sunlight spilling in a dull haze through the window, the dark sepia walls and sparse furnishings - a small chair, a modest dresser, and a lumpy bed that he was - at the moment - lying upon. His eyes came back to rest on the man sitting on the edge of the bed and the menacing look of distaste.  
  
Though the padawan would never admit it, at least to the man in front of him, he was actually relieved that Tennosa had found him and brought him here. His experience with the serpent had definitely made him wary of ever setting foot in the forest again, and if he could help it, he would not be going back.   
  
"Would you, please," Obi-Wan replied tersely, fighting to keep a smirk from forming as he watched the man's jaw muscles tighten.   
  
There was just a small, very tiny part inside of him that doubted his captor would not throw him out in the forest, but he considered that, as much trouble as Tennosa had gone through to capture him and bring him here, it would not likely happen... at least not soon.  
  
"The vines you ran through," Tennosa said, with unmasked virulence. "They're poisonous. The cuts on your hands, did you get them from the vine's thorns?"  
  
He watched in atrocious satisfaction as the padawan blinked back the shock of the new information and, in futility, tried to cover up his unease, and when the padawan looked back at him again in hesitance, there was an unspoken question in his worried eyes.   
  
Smiling spitefully at the look of disquiet on the padawan's face, Tennosa went on, "if enough poison got into your system, which I believe it did, then... who knows," he shrugged.  
  
Obi-Wan stared at him, swallowing the sickly apprehension coursing through him. "Poison?" he muttered just as a flurry of heat spread over him.   
  
Tennosa stared indifferently at him. It was strikingly apparent that the padawan was in the grasp of a torrid fever - and very ill. His face, as pallid as the white sleep clothes that Tennosa had dressed him in, was covered in a sheet of sweat, his hair was darkened from dampness, and his eyes shone glassy in the soft light.  
  
Weakly raising a hand to his face, Obi-Wan draped it lazily across his forehead, and to his dismay, felt the smoldering heat of his skin. Just as the feverish temperature registered, a wave of nausea encompassed him, and if he had had any food in his stomach at all, he knew without a single doubt, it would certainly have come up.  
  
"Rest now, Padawan," said Tennosa's voice, but to the young man lying on the bed it sounded funneled, distant, and just as the room suddenly swerved, he hastily closed his eyes.  
  
  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
There were moments of lucidity, and there were moments of incapacitating confusion, when blurred vagueness and a scurry of thoughts twisted and tossed about in a blaze of alternately withering and swarming heat, and when he believed he was truly going mad, then the crystal clarity returned, shining and bold... only to cruelly scamper away again.  
  
But the most horrifying thing was the painful sickness that tumbled violently about his insides. In queasy agony, he groped and tugged at the thin cotton sheet covering him, rumpling the delicate, crisp fabric.  
  
A metallic voice.   
  
A flood of water inside his parched mouth, and chills followed by fire.   
  
Everything else came in the spate of a windstorm... ringing voices, vibrant colors, there and gone in a trice.  
  
And where was he again?  
  
At last, as the most gripping moment of nausea drifted away and his feverish thoughts left him, he opened his eyes to the softly lit window across the room, where a gentle radiance shone through as the only light in the room.  
  
There was no more fiery heat, no more engulfing nausea, though the effects of the Force-suppressant seemed to remain, but it could no more compare to the poison as a tiny droplet could compare to a tiding ocean.   
  
After a few minutes, when he felt sure that his body had purged itself, he pushed himself up to sit on the mattress. His strength was all gone, but he was not at all surprised since he had been given very little to eat since he had been kidnapped, and that Tennosa had probably deprived him purposely.  
  
He closed his eyes, and as he was about to tumble over from weakness, he heard the swoosh of an opening door.   
  
"I see you're feeling better, Padawan." The voice was smooth, smug, and after a brief pause of silence, during which Obi-Wan did not even so much as look at the speaker, the voice continued. "Here is food for you to eat, and no matter what you believe, I do care about your welfare. I saw that you were cared for while you were so sick."  
  
"Sure you do," Obi-Wan mumbled, keeping his eyes trained on the bed.  
  
"Es-Kay, just leave the tray on the bed," said Tennosa dismissively.  
  
Obi-Wan looked up at the bi-pedal, servant droid walking around the bed. It carefully placed a tray full of food beside him on the bed and walked stiffly out the door.  
  
Directing his attention back to the padawan, Tennosa continued, "I do care. I had your ankle tended to, and, unless I'm mistaken - which I doubt - it is nearly healed. Now, I'll leave you to eat."  
  
As Tennosa turned to leave, Obi-Wan watched him place his hand against a panel on the wall. The door slid open, revealing another closed door just outside that one, then the first door closed behind Tennosa, leaving the padawan alone in the small room.  
  
His gaze dropped down to the tray of food. If he were to discover a way out of here, he would need to regain his strength first.  
  
  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
Left alone since the food was brought to him earlier, he now stood by the window, gazing at the steamy forest. Apparently his room was raised three or four stories up from the ground. Below, he could see shadows and misty darkness concealing the thick vegetation, while the last gleaming rays of sunlight stretched over the tops of the trees, dropping the curtain of day.   
  
He felt less faint after eating, and his skin had returned to its natural color, and was no longer pale - as the white sleep clothes he wore starkly contrasted with his normal skin tone.   
  
Looking down at his ankle, he flexed it. It was still tender, but had nearly healed while he had been unconscious, so Tennosa had not lied about that.  
  
The swoosh of the door drew his attention to his new visitor. Obi-Wan heard someone enter the room and stop, but he did not look.  
  
After a moment of silence, Tennosa said, "Jinn sacrificed alot in his pride of apprentices. It made him blind in many ways, blind in the ways of discipline and the so-called overbearing intervention by nosey Councilors, among other things."  
  
"What is THAT supposed to mean?" Obi-Wan huffed, wheeling around to face the speaker.  
  
"It means," Tennosa walked towards the window, peering past the padawan to the lush view outside, "that Qui-Gon missed alot of points in training."  
  
Obi-Wan glared at him with eyes suddenly dark and foreboding.   
  
Tennosa barely acknowledged the piercing stare. "When he should have been harsh, he was lenient, and when he should have lenient, he was harsh. But maybe that's not important."  
  
"Then what is important?" asked the padawan in exasperation.  
  
"Qui-Gon knows the Force. He doesn't just follow it, but he KNOWS it." The Tennosa studied the younger man's eyes. There was a soft vulnerability now present in them.  
  
Obi-Wan stared at him, but said nothing.  
  
"He listens to the Living Force, does he not?" The elder man waited, and seeing he would get no response, turned around and strode across the room. "I believe the Living Force is important, I want to understand it, but did you ever think... that it is his connection to the Living Force that blinds him - that makes him unable to stop his mistakes, because he can't see them far enough in advance to prevent them? But maybe he isn't listening well enough?"  
  
"He makes no mistakes," Obi-Wan answered quickly.  
  
"Everyone makes mistakes, Padawan," the elder man snapped back, facing Obi-Wan again. "Even that Sith-of-a-master that you worship."  
  
"What do you know of his mistakes?" Obi-Wan guardedly asked.  
  
"I know he messed up with Xanatos. Who couldn't see that he was only puffing the boy up, only adding to his arrogance? When I first met Qui-Gon, there was no way that Xanatos could be wrong, in his eyes. And apparently others warned him about the boy, but he wouldn't listen."  
  
"What's so important about all of this?" Obi-Wan inquired. "What's so important to you about Qui-Gon?"  
  
"He told me he couldn't train me, that I wasn't young enough," Tennosa admitted quietly. "But I couldn't have been," he started in smoldering wrath, "as bad as that arrogant kid he kept as his apprentice. And Jinn couldn't see that. Why couldn't he see the truth?"  
  
"But you said he helped you," Obi-Wan countered.  
  
Tennosa retraced his steps to stand beside Obi-Wan by the window. "He helped me see that I wasn't wanted. But... his little padawan offered to help. And from him I learned a great many things."  
  
"You'll learn nothing from me," Obi-Wan stated calmly.  
  
  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
The window had become a source of escape for him. Staring at the rain forest, he often let his mind wander, let himself feel free once again. He watched the failing light as another day disappeared, leaving him in the engulfing darkness again. When the shades of night appeared he would let himself sleep. He would be free there, too.  
  
He was never allowed out of his room, nor did Tennosa ever leave him alone for more than a few hours at a time. The man questioned and questioned him tirelessly concerning anything and everything remotely related to the Force - and even things that Obi-Wan saw no connection between them at all.   
  
He had no intention to give any useful information to his captor at all, and diligently tiptoed along the edge of opposition and cooperation. Evasion was not easy to do, but the padawan had tried to keep Tennosa as confused about the Force as he ever had been.  
  
Rubbing his temples, he tried to alleviate a raging headache. Dealing with his captor daily was extremely stressful. The man seemed very intelligent, but also - thankfully - confused about the Force. Although it all made perfect sense to the padawan, he knew that intellectuals were sometimes the hardest ones to get a firm grasp of the faculties involving the Force. It was not all mental, there were spiritual aspects that - no matter the brilliance of the individual - could never be completely understood with reason.  
  
Every day was basically the same - he would eat, sleep, and run circles of logic around his captor. If he hadn't been in the situation he was in, then the padawan might have found it humorous, but he warily had qualms that Tennosa suspected his subterfuge.   
  
How much longer his tactics would work, he did not know, but he knew where it was all heading. Eventually Tennosa would grow weary of him and wish to kill him, which made escape a top priority.  
  
Now all he needed to do was formulate a plan.  
  
With a sliding swish, the door opened behind him. He turned to find the droid who usually brought him his food. It walked over to the food tray, proceeding to retrieve it.  
  
"Es-Kay," Obi-Wan said, walking closer to the droid. "That is your name, isn't it?"  
  
It paused and straightened up stiffly to face him. "Actually, my name is SK-9, but Master always calls me Es-Kay. So, you could say that that is my name," it informed him in a mechanical male voice.  
  
"How do you get in here? Tennosa uses a palm lock," asked Obi-Wan in sincere interest.  
  
"I have an internal monitor that I can send a message to Master if I need to." Es-Kay turned back to the tray on the bed.  
  
"You mean, you tell him every time you need those doors unlocked, and he unlocks it?" Obi-Wan reasoned.  
  
"Yes," the droid replied, straightening up with the tray in its hands.  
  
Sweeping surreptitiously around the room, Obi-Wan's eyes came back to the droid in front of him. "Is this room," he asked softly, "bugged?"  
  
"Bugged?" the droid repeated. It leaned slightly back, as if confused.  
  
"Yes. Are there any of your friends hiding around in here, listening to what we're saying?" Obi-Wan said, with underlying sarcasm that he felt sure the droid did not suspect.  
  
The droid seemed to think about what it had heard before replying. "No. I don't think so."  
  
"Do you know if 'Master'," the padawan injected a mocking timbre in the title, "has another ship or any kind of communications equipment in his house anywhere?"  
  
"I-" the droid quickly glanced towards the door, its white-lighted eyes unblinking, then back at him. "I don't think I should be telling you anything like that."  
  
Obi-Wan crossed his arms casually across his chest. "And why not?"  
  
'Because you are his guest here, and he does not want you doing anything without his permission."  
  
"Guest? Does he have any other 'guests'?" the padawan asked, disgusted with the use of the word.  
  
"I do not believe so. Everyone else here is droid. But like I said, I should not be speaking with you." Es-Kay turned to leave.  
  
"You won't tell Master about what we talked about, will you?" Obi-Wan asked hopefully.  
  
"I'm," the droid hesitated. "I'm not so sure I should keep something like that from him."  
  
Obi-Wan stepped to the front of the droid. "But, you don't want him to... hurt me, do you?" Obi-Wan asked, inflecting a hint of trepidation in his voice and widening his eyes in fear.  
  
"Well, I don't know," the droid sounded confused.  
  
"He might - hurt - me if you do. Or he might even wipe your memory, so you can't tell me anything anymore." Reading a droid's behavior was not an easy thing to do, but he felt this droid was falling for his trick.  
  
"Wipe my memory?" the droid said fearfully.  
  
"Yes, wipe your memory," the padawan stressed. "Have you ever had your memory wiped before?" He stepped closer, staring at the droid's bright eyes.   
  
The droid looked thoughtful, at least, Obi-Wan guessed that was what a droid looked like in thought.  
  
"You wouldn't remember if you have, would you? But you don't want that to happen, do you?" he added, pushing his subtle threat.  
  
"No."  
  
"Well, if you tell Master that I've been talking to you, then I'll tell him that you've been telling me everything I want to know. And you wouldn't want him to wipe your memory, would you?"  
  
"N-No," the droid replied, in obvious fright.  
  
"Then tell me where Master's communications unit is, or I'll tell him," the padawan threatened in a hushed tone.  
  
"But-"  
  
"Tell me," Obi-Wan demanded. "And tell me about all of these other droids you mentioned."  
  
  
TBC 


	7. How Far Can You Trust A Droid?

Sorry you had to wait so long for this. I had it finished over a week ago, but fanfiction.net has been down for that long - as I guess most of you probably know. I wish to thank those who have stuck it out with this story. I tried to push myself in certain areas, and still am not sure if I like some of this story. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. ;)  
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TITLE: MILES TO GO  
AUTHOR: Cascadia  
TIME: 6 years pre-TPM, Obi-Wan is 19  
RATING: PG-13  
CATEGORY: Drama/Angst, Non-Slash  
SUMMARY: Padawan Obi-Wan is kidnapped by a Force-sensitive. Can he overcome without the Force? Without Qui-Gon?  
ARCHIVE: Please ask first. Sites who have previously archived any of my stories may archive any of them that they want to without asking. See bio for archived sites.  
DISCLAIMER: All recognizable characters are the property of Lucasfilm Limited. All the rest belong to me. I receive absolutely no profit from this.  
  
  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^   
  
  
  
  
CHAPTER 7 - HOW FAR CAN YOU TRUST A DROID?   
  
  
  
The irritating creak broke the silence of his room every time he moved. Even a very slight movement in his solitary chair caused it to protest loudly. The chair was comfortable, if small, and had one thin pillow for cushioning, but he liked to set it before the window and gaze at the forest.  
  
Resting his chin on his arms upon the windowsill, he stared at the rain drenching the landscape. It was so beautiful. Even in the midst of a mighty downpour, the trees, the tropical flowers and vines - everything - beamed loveliness.  
  
He shifted lazily back in his chair, resisting the urge to send the creaking thing across the room, and concentrated on what he should do next. If Es-Kay was telling the truth - and who knows about a droid - then Tennosa's comm unit was located on the first floor, he was on the fourth floor, and there were three droids total - Es-Kay, a maintenance droid that usually stayed outside, and another servant droid.  
  
As it was, things did not appear very encouraging. Tennosa, with his Force-enhanced abilities, may be too powerful to overcome. If there was some way to get to the comm unit and send a transmission to the Jedi Temple, then he would try that, but still, it might incur punishment for himself if Tennosa knew that he did. But what options did he really have, anyway?  
  
The door swishing open interrupted his thoughts, dragging him back to the present.   
  
"You need to learn not to talk to strange droids," said Tennosa. His voice was very controlled, yet strained.  
  
Obi-Wan quickly looked at the elder man standing at the door to the room, and his heart nearly leaped in his throat. Tennosa stood with muscles tensed, his face contorted in anger.  
  
Slowly, the padawan stood up, keeping his eyes trained on him.  
  
As Tennosa advanced towards Obi-Wan, he pulled out a blaster from beneath his cloak.   
  
"I guess that means Es-Kay won't be bringing my food anymore," Obi-Wan replied sarcastically.  
  
"It means NOBODY will be bringing you any food, Padawan," Tennosa informed him coldly.  
  
Obi-Wan wrapped his hands around the top of the chair, gripping it tightly.   
  
"Don't expect such nice treatment in the future," Tennosa threatened. He stepped closer, within arm's reach, aiming the blaster at his unarmed captive.   
  
With as much force as he could put behind it, Obi-Wan swung the chair up, smashing Tennosa in the side and sending him sprawling to the floor.   
  
The blaster flew from Tennosa's hand. Sliding clumsily across the room, it bumped against the far wall.   
  
Diving for the weapon, the padawan was surprised when a foot connected with his stomach, and he fell to the floor, gasping for breath.  
  
Tennosa quickly scooped up the blaster.  
  
Knowing that this was, in all likelihood, his last chance for survival, Obi-Wan forced himself to stand and ran out the door, just as the blaster fire exploded on the wall where he had just stood.  
  
He raced down the hall, frantically searching for a way to the first floor. At the end of the hall, he spied a staircase and hastened toward it, ducking deadly blaster bolts.  
  
Rushing down the stairs, he nearly tripped on the last step and emerged into another hall. The first open door appeared to be some sort of a personal study. Quickly scanning the room, he saw in the corner a box that looked like a communications unit.   
  
He entered the room and looked for a lock for the door, his heart pounding as he heard Tennosa lumbering down the stairs.   
  
By the door was a small panel with one button - a simple lock. Tennosa wouldn't need a fancy lock for his personal study, like he had for the room he had been keeping Obi-Wan in. He pushed the button, heaving a relieved sigh as the door swished closed and the locking bolt slid in place.  
  
Dashing to the comm unit, he was surprised to see that it appeared to be a design he was not familiar with.  
  
To his side, a small, round droid rolled to stand next to him, while it beeped a series of tones to him.  
  
"How does this thing work?" he asked desperately, hoping the droid would cooperate.  
  
In answer, the droid extended a long arm and worked at the controls.  
  
Explosions erupted outside the door, as Tennosa blanketed the door with his blaster, trying to get in.  
  
A message appeared on the screen, asking for the transmission destination. The droid pointed to a keyboard.  
  
Obi-Wan quickly entered the coordinates for the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Then a prompting appeared for him to record the message.   
  
"You mean I can't talk directly to anyone?" Obi-Wan said, exasperated. "This is Obi-Wan Kenobi," he began in a rush. "I've been kidnapped by Merrik Tennosa. I don't know what planet I'm on, but hopefully you can track the transmission signal and find out. I need help now. Please send help as soon as possible."  
  
His heart jumped as the door slid open, grating against the floor.  
  
"End transmission and send," he shouted to the droid.  
  
The droid touched several buttons, and as Tennosa entered the room, Obi-Wan ducked behind a desk.  
  
Blaster fire strafed across the top of the desk, leaving a trail of sizzling, burnt wood.  
  
To the side of the desk, Obi-Wan saw Es-Kay inanimate and propped against the wall, and elaborately along the wall was a display of weaponry. Knives, swords, pikes - all archaic, and with metal blades polished.  
  
Tennosa turned his blaster on the droid at the comm unit and fired. The droid whistled a low sigh before it froze with puffs of smoke spewing from it.  
  
Taking advantage of Tennosa's momentary distraction by the droid, Obi-Wan darted to the weapons display and pulled a long dagger from its mounting. Then the padawan grabbed a small statue off the top of the desk and threw it at Tennosa.  
  
The elder man dodged to the side, avoiding the flying statue, and in his hastiness, fell to the floor.  
  
Obi-Wan ran to Tennosa and kicked the blaster from his hand, but the elder man swung his leg, tripping the padawan. Falling on top of Tennosa, Obi-Wan swung the knife up, slashing the other man's chest.   
  
Tennosa grabbed the padawan, twisting him over and came out on top of the younger man.  
  
Something wet and slick covered Obi-Wan's hands. He glanced down, frightened to see the bright red blood dripping down from Tennosa. The man's black clothing disguised any wound that there may be, but the evidence from the wound looked to be serious.  
  
With a strength that had to be Force-enhanced, Tennosa grabbed Obi-Wan's wrist and pinned his hand with the knife to the floor. Then he backhanded the trapped padawan repeatedly until the young man was nearly unconscious.  
  
In a state of vague consciousness, Obi-Wan felt himself drop the knife, and then being lifted and carried.  
  
He could hear Tennosa's ragged breathing as he was taken up the steps and dumped to the floor of his room. At that moment, as he heard the door swish shut, imprisoning him in his cell again, he allowed himself to loose consciousness.  
  
  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
He hurt... again. As he reluctantly opened his eyes, he pushed himself to his knees and skittered his gaze over himself, checking for any wounds.  
  
The front of his bright white sleep clothes was deeply stained with patches of red, still damp, and his hands were similarly covered in blood.  
  
Was all of this blood from Tennosa, or was he bleeding as well? he wondered.  
  
He pulled off his shirt and checked himself for any cuts, relieved to find he was not bleeding anywhere except his mouth where Tennosa had hit him, and other than that had only bruises and various pains and soreness.  
  
Leaving his stained shirt off, he crawled to his bed and collapsed, relieved - to some extent - that he was still alive. He tried to forget about his aches and the smell of blood. Even though he had tried to escape, Tennosa had not killed him... yet. But perhaps he was tending to his own wounds first. In desperation, he tried to put that thought out of his mind.  
  
Remembering the attempted transmission to the Jedi Temple, he wondered if it had gone through. He recalled that Tennosa had blasted the droid helping him. Did the droid have enough time to send it or was it all a futile attempt? And even if it did get through, would Tennosa take him and leave this place before any help arrived? It seemed that nothing could go smoothly, the way he wanted it. There was always something there in the way - something denying him passage.  
  
He knew Qui-Gon would be devastated, never finding his padawan, never knowing what had happened.  
  
"I'm sorry, Master," he whispered in the empty room.  
  
The sun passed over the sky outside the window, directing shadows from one side of the horizon to the other.  
  
Obi-Wan lay in his bed, curled up in the thin sheet, and thought of what could happen next. Even if Tennosa did not kill him, there would still be changes. Tennosa had already promised that. He should expect rougher treatment from now on. His captor was not a nice person - anger and hate drove him.  
  
The padawan drifted in and out of sleep, his weariness overcoming him, and his fear over what would happen next biting at his crumbling resolve.  
  
Hours past into oblivion.   
  
Another morning sun appeared, but no one came to his room. What was Tennosa doing?  
  
Hunger began to gnaw at him, but... still no one came.   
  
Tennosa was starving him. That was it, he realized in horror. His captor had said that no one would be bringing him any food anymore. Now he was destined to waste away, dying helplessly from famine. What a cruel torture. What a cruel and terrifying way to die.  
  
Shuddering at that uneasy thought, he wrapped the sheet around him tighter, willing for some kind of protection from the dreadful fate that had been chosen for him.  
  
If this was how it was to be, how he was to die, then he would not beg Tennosa for food. He was a Jedi, so he would accept it without complaint.  
  
When the light disappeared and the moon danced brightly in the heavens, he was still in bed, and his hunger increased with every hour lost.  
  
How could a man be so cruel? he wondered.  
  
Fighting back an urge to dry-heave, he buried his face in his pillow, gritting his teeth on the end of his sheet.  
  
He fell asleep with fleeting thoughts of food pecking at the fringes of his consciousness.  
  
  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
"Padawan," Qui-Gon said. "If you're going to go to the Republic Day carnival, I suggest you clean up this room first."  
  
Obi-Wan glanced innocently around his bedroom. It was littered with datapads, a plate of half-eaten cake, and discarded clothes. With an impish grin, he organized the datapads, tossed the abandoned clothes in drawers, and stuffed the remaining bit of cake in one large bite in his mouth, swallowing the huge piece with difficulty.  
  
Chuckling, Qui-Gon left the room. "I hope you save room for a Zuacian funnel pastry," he called from the other room.  
  
A Zuacian funnel pastry....  
  
He jerked awake. He was alone... in the room Tennosa kept him in.   
  
It had all been a dream - a mercilessly torturous dream.  
  
Qui-Gon was not here, he was being held prisoner, he was starving to death literally, and he had to dream about a Zuacian funnel pastry.   
  
With one last despairing thought, he reached for his fraying hope and fell asleep again.  
  
  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
He awoke to another day - another day of starvation, he reminded himself. The sun burned outside his window, sending in a warm greeting to accept that his time was coming near an end.  
  
Rolling over on his side, the padawan suddenly realized his waning strength. He lightly trembled from the lack of bodily sustenance and felt a wave of faintness. Frustrated by his own weakness, he punched his pillow with his remaining dwindling strength, and quietly sobbed, his cries muffled by the pillow.  
  
How much longer could he survive?  
  
The reality of his fate crashed into him, and his despondency rode forth. Closing his eyes, for what he hoped to be the last time, he succumbed to the call of blissful sleep.   
  
Distressed thoughts and dreams of the growing horror of death pranced and played unabashedly through his mind. He slipped in and out of consciousness, giving himself to the idea of never waking again - hoping, praying for it.  
  
There was a soft swoosh and a padding of boots. Then the bed dipped gently with an extra weight.  
  
He remotely pushed thoughts away, wishing he would just die.  
  
A tender touch to his cheek stirred him, but he ignored any urge to open his eyes. He was dying and wanted to die in his sleep, not facing Tennosa. But another hand touched the other side of his face. Together, the hands held his face with caring gentility.  
  
"Padawan," said a calm, serene voice.  
  
No. Not again. He was asleep again - dreaming or hallucinating.  
  
"Padawan," it said again. One hand left his cheek and gently stroked his hair.  
  
"No," Obi-Wan protested. His voice was broken, hoarse. "Please, let me die in peace."  
  
"Obi-Wan. You're not going to die," the voice replied with a hint of worry. "Please wake up, Padawan."  
  
"Master?" Obi-Wan frowned, not sure if he was hearing right.  
  
"Yes, Obi-Wan. It's me," answered the calm, soothing voice of his Jedi master.   
  
Opening his eyes to ensure he was not dreaming, Obi-Wan saw Qui-Gon sitting on the edge of the bed, hovering over him. His face was lined in worry, but relief gleamed in his eyes.  
  
"Are you ok, Padawan? Are you hurt anywhere?" asked Qui-Gon. He pulled back the sheet, and his eyes searched Obi-Wan for any trace of injury.  
  
"I'm not hurt," Obi-Wan answered in a weak voice. "I'm... I'm just hungry, Master," Obi-Wan said with a small smile.  
  
Nodding, Qui-Gon noted the evidence of his padawan's captivity. He had lost some weight, that much was evident, as his ribs were clearly visible and his face thin.  
  
"Let me get you something to drink first," Qui-Gon suggested. "I saw a 'fresher just outside in the hall."  
  
The Jedi master left the room and returned a short time later with a glass of water. He held it up to Obi-Wan's lips as he drank it.   
  
"Drink slowly," Qui-Gon advised.  
  
After drinking the glass down, Obi-Wan turned his attention back to his master. "What about Tennosa? Did you find him? Did he get away?" he asked.  
  
Qui-Gon briefly closed his eyes. When he opened them again they were filled with somberness. "I found him, Obi-Wan."  
  
"What's wrong, Master?" the padawan asked, uncertain of what was wrong.  
  
When their gazes met again, Qui-Gon continued. "When the Temple received your distress call, they contacted me and sent me the coordinates of its origination. I was already near this sector, so I came immediately. When I arrived, I found Tennosa downstairs.... He's dead. He bled to death."   
  
"I killed him," Obi-Wan whispered, looking away.  
  
"I'm sure you had a good reason, Padawan," Qui-Gon said in all sincerity. "He looked to be dead for a couple of days. There is no one else here but a maintenance droid outside. So I guess there was no one to help him."  
  
"I've been locked in here for two days, without any food," Obi-Wan said. "And the two servant droids are either turned off or damaged. That's why no one came," he added quietly, as he realized what had happened.  
  
Nodding, Qui-Gon inhaled deeply. "I think I need to tell you what I didn't the night you were kidnapped. I know it must have hurt you, and I'm sorry for that, but I felt that Yoda needed to know first, since he already knew some of the background. I had planned on telling you later," he paused, uncomfortably shifting his weight on the mattress.   
  
Obi-Wan remained still, waiting patiently.  
  
When Qui-Gon continued, his eyes were haunted. "Years ago, when Xanatos was my apprentice, we ran into Merrik Tennosa. He knew he was Force-sensitive, and had sought in vain for instruction. I could see that he wanted it for selfish reasons, so I denied any help to him. Well, Xanatos decided to help him anyway. I'm not sure what all he taught him, but it was evidently enough to be dangerous. Apparently, the Council got wind of it after we returned to the Temple. I... didn't want them to think that I was wrong about Xanatos, so I took the blame for it myself. Then the night you disappeared, a friend of mine told me that Tennosa had been spotted on Coruscant. So I wanted to tell Yoda and confess what had happened years ago... that I was wrong then, as I was so often wrong about Xanatos."  
  
The pain and shame from years ago crept into the Jedi master's face - hurt from the betrayal of an apprentice he trusted and the shame of his own pride blinding him to the boy's evil intentions.  
  
"Thank you, Master," Obi-Wan said softly, "for telling me." He knew it could not make up for the hurt that Qui-Gon felt, but wanted him to know that he stood beside him, not against him.  
  
Eyes tainted with pain turned once again to the padawan. "There are things that we wish never happened, but when we refuse to acknowledge that they did, then we have truly failed."  
  
Obi-Wan nodded, always amazed at the depth of his Jedi master.  
  
"Stay here," Qui-Gon said, clearing his throat as he stood. "I'll find you something to eat," he added with a kind smile.  
  
"Master," the padawan smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Don't forget the Zuacian funnel pastry."   
  
A perplexed expression passed over Qui-Gon's face. He nodded slowly and left the room, but not before sparing one last confused glance at Obi-Wan.  
  
Unable to get Qui-Gon's reaction out of his mind, Obi-Wan burst into laughter.   
  
  
END 


End file.
